Hope
by Simone Lyon
Summary: A mission gets twisted when unexpected things happen, leaving the Heroes separated and in bad condition. COMPLETE!
1. Findings

**Chapter One: Findings**

They were a somber company. Hogan led, stoically trudging on, his eyes always ahead, seeking signs of trouble. Earlier, they had heard a patrol, and quickly taken to the brush that grew from the shoals. But that had been their only encounter with their foe. His thoughts were deep inside him, as he pondered all that he knew about his lost man. He knew too little he concluded. Too little to really have the honor of calling him brother. Still, he thought that he most likely knew more of his brother than most in fair London could claim. After all, had they voluntarily remained to give their foe chances to shoot them?

Second came Johann, one of the Underground agents who worked with Papa Bear. He was just as watchful and prepared for danger as the man in front of him. But his thoughts were not as deep. He thought only of the next step after they returned to camp. Yes, he silently mourned the loss of the Englishman, for he had grown fond of his company. But he did not know him well enough, or had grown so close to him to give all thought to him. He had more pressing problems.

Next, Geoff came, who had hastily been thrown into the operation with his son, Johann. Geoff was being alert in his own way. He could not, however, fathom the amount of grief that weighed upon the others' hearts; not even his son's. He concluded that the Englishman had been important to their company, but overall, it seemed that they had lost a thief, and thieves were always replaceable.

Carter followed the elderly man. His eyes were always on the water, hopeful for any sign of his friend. But as the afternoon drifted to dusk, he saw less and less hope coming from the water that had now turned cool and calm, almost welcoming if one had not known their past murders. Carter scorned the water, albeit it had been his own explosives that had ultimately taken his friend's life.

LeBeau walked behind Carter in a similar fashion: shoulders sagging and feet dragging. His head was down, however, because he could barely contain the look of grief on his fear, and feared he must look estranged as he kept his emotions in check. He could not give reign to those emotions, yet, and this was the only sign emancipating from him that gave one reason to think that he believed his brother in arms (or in their case, brother out of arms) was still alive.

Lastly, Kinch walked, as strong and calm as ever. He felt his comrade's emotions, those he respected and those he did not respect. He had let it come upon himself that he now carried more than what he had left with. Then, he remembered that which the lost Englishman had always said to his disbelieving mates: _I've always beat the odds, Guv'nor. _Kinch smiled and did not give up on hope.

As dusk came, the world turned almost colourless. There were just dark colours, and the air seemed blue and gray. Their toes were becoming numb, as their boots could only keep water out for so long. But no one seemed to notice this. They were concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other.

Suddenly, there was splashing ahead and shouts in German. They all stood straight and looked up, mimicking deer. Then, Hogan waved his arm, and they ducked behind branches and a fallen log next to the bank. There was a small sink hole and when they ducked, they were submerged up to their chests. They held their breaths as a patrol on the other bank swiftly walked by. When the patrol passed, and their voices faded around the bend, the company rose up and went back to the shallows. Then, without warning Carter darted into the deeper parts of the river, and half-waded, half-swam across to the opposite side.

"André," called LeBeau. "What are you doing?"

Carter did not answer, so the others quickly followed. Geoff got out of the river, telling Johann that he would find a better place to cross. Johann decided it was best that he go with his father, because there was no clue to what he would get himself into next.

Hogan, Kinch, and LeBeau followed Carter across, and came up behind him just as he was coming into the shallows of the opposite side. They finally saw what he had seen. There was Newkirk's newsboy hat floating in the shallows. Carter slowly walked to it, and scooped it up, shaking the water away. He looked down at it, fingering the stitches, thoughtfully.

Carter turned back to the others.

"He made it this far," he croaked hopefully.

"No," said Hogan, taking the hat. "His hat made it this far. We don't know where _he_ is, Carter."

Carter sighed and looked away, clearly distressed.

"No, wait," said Kinch. He was looking past Carter on the bank. The others looked at him and followed his gaze. "See? There are tracks. You don't think…" He did not bother finishing his sentence because all four of them ran from the river and onto the bank, following the sad trail.

It was sad simply because of the tale it told. It seemed as if a dying animal were dragging itself away through the muddy bank and into the damp foliage that littered the forest floor. They followed the trail as it winded about fifty yards into the woods, underneath logs and bushes, through puddles and thorns. There were other tracks as well: boots of many sizes, stepping here and there, going in circles. Molested shrubs withered in the gray light. Rotting trees gave pictures of something scraping the last bit of smooth bark away. Then, the trail abruptly stopped, with the still form of a man lying, drenched in the middle of a glade, curled up against the trunk of a large oak, and underneath a clump of bushes that grew beside the trees. The animal had dragged himself from the river to die in peace.

A stranger thought drifted through Carter's mind when he saw Newkirk's body curled up there. Why was the river not peaceful? Why could one not die floating on the water, looking up at the sky, and suddenly drifting into another world? He would have like to go that way. When all else seemed confused, the river knew its course. He would have put himself in the river's care, knowing he would not have to think any more. Mother Nature would take care of her child.

The four of them stood there, very silent, just looking at their friend. Newkirk's expression was one of peace. His eyes were closed, his long bangs matted sideways on his forehead. His head was resting on his coat's large, upturned collar. There was a ghost of a smile on his face, where perhaps he had finally passed in a dream, thinking of happier days before the war, or perhaps the happier days that had only taken place a week before. Of that, no one would know. His face seemed younger, almost boyish, and Hogan finally got some consolidation when he saw the face of Peter. It wasn't Newkirk, it was Peter. It was that of an untamed youth, who knew not the worst of the world, and had no worries.

Besides the peaceful atonement, Newkirk's body was marred with injury. Blood oozed from his mouth, nose, and ears, and from the top of his head, where the mos potent wound was hidden under the mop of thick, dark hair. His face was black and blue with bruises as well. They only knew that there was more to the fatal injury that they could not perceive.

Before any of them moved, Johann walked up from the side, his father following. Johann sighed wearily when he saw Newkirk lying there. He removed his hat respectively and placed it over his heart in a brief prayer. The others, followed suit, Geoff complying last. When everyone was through, Carter was the first to take a step forward.

He was scared. He knew Newkirk was dead, but the very thought of touching the body which had carried Newkirk's precious soul, scared him. It was not superstitious; it was just that this was not _him_. It was a shell that looked like _him_. It had formed over _his_ soul like clay that was thrown atop a rock, and after weathering there so long, took the shape of that rock. Carter was not sure of his plan of action, but felt some kind of will that he should at least pull the body out, and lay it properly so that…so that they…could bury—

_NO!_

Carter halted his thoughts. They were so final. But what did they know? How could his thoughts think like that? They were betraying him. Everyone's thoughts were betraying them. The thoughts were trying to make them believe things that just could not be true. Yes, there was Newkirk, lying so still and marred, not even shuddering in breath, pale and blue, yes, everything that pointed to the fact waiting on one side of the spectrum to be recognized and given all power to: Newkirk was dead. Carter shook his head, and his companions thought he for a moment he was about to have some kind of fit. Then, he stood straight, and looked at them. They looked back, waiting, anticipating some great words (or at least an attempt) because of the way he held himself. He remained looking at them however, holding their gazes for a few moments each. He nodded, understanding his finds. Yes, they were being betrayed by their thoughts. He turned away, leaving his companions confused. Then, he stepped forward, like someone who was about to hand over his boots to the executioner. He knelt beside the body, and with trembling hands, placed cold and wet fingers on Newkirk's neck.

There was a moment where Carter's mind was blank. Even his thoughts were waiting to see what came next.

Then, something was striking the tips of his fingers: a very small, erratic thumping; life's little Morse code.

Newkirk was alive.


	2. Restoration

**Chapter Two: Restoration**

_They were sitting at the Hammelburg train station, appearing to be patiently waiting for the 2:00 afternoon train to arrive. In actuality, they were nervously awaiting the next leg of their mission._

_ Colonel Hogan was sitting on the bench in a prominent Gestapo captain's uniform. The people on the platform kept their distance. There were few that were boarding. Most people took the morning trains. Leaning casually against the wall of the box office, a little ways from him, was Newkirk, in middle class civilian clothes. He had a knapsack slung over his shoulder. He eyed all the people on the platform suspiciously. Then, one young fraulein went by and he could not keep his eyes off her. With a sheepish glance at Colonel Hogan, he followed the young lady to a bench and sat down beside her._

_ "Nice day, isn't it," he asked in his best German, while still trying to sound charming. It was difficult feat. The sound of the language left little room for romantic words. "Are you meeting the soldiers that are coming home?"_

_ "Yes," answered the fraulein. "My brother is coming home on a furlough. And it is much nicer today. It is good to have spring come earlier this year." _

_ Newkirk was about to reply when another man, dressed similar to him sat down beside him. Newkirk recognized the man to be Johann Krieger, an agent who was meeting them here. With an ungrateful sigh, he turned to the lady once again._

_ "Well," he said. "I hope your brother enjoys his furlough. I must go now."_

_ He gave a slight nod and got up with Johann._

_ "You know her," asked Johann curiously._

_ "We just met," answered Newkirk. "About a minute ago."_

_ Johann nodded and smiled knowingly._

_ "I thought you said all five you would be here," asked Johann._

_ "Well not 'ere, exactly," explained Newkirk. "But in on the mission. You've seen Colonel Hogan. The other three are down the line, at the bridge. We're takin' out two with one stone so to speak."_

_ "And we will get off before we get to the bridge," asked Johann nervously._

_ "The train'll stop on the bridge," said Newkirk. "We'll take our man, and then get off, and get into the woods. The conductor'll be told to start up again, and then it'll blow. Simple."_

_ "I hope," said Johann. "I would not want to be on the train when it goes off."_

_ Newkirk chuckled. "Me either, mate."_

_ They then heard the whistle of the train in the distance. Looking up, they saw the smoke of the engine over the tree line._

_ "Well," said Newkirk. "Make yourself comfortable. Just relax. We've done this 'bout a 'undred times now."_

_ "I'm glad I'm only doing this once," said Johann._

_ "Yea, I wouldn't mind tradin' spaces with you," said Newkirk. "You're goin' ta England!"_

_ "Shhh," stuttered Johann nervously._

_ Newkirk chuckled. "Listen, if you act relaxed, no one'll suspect you. Come on, just enjoy the afternoon. It's the first day of spring. I'm enjoyin' it. We don't get peaceful afternoons like this at camp."_

_ "I am sure you do not." muttered Johann. "Guards pushy?"_

_ "Oh, not really," said Newkirk. "It's only when we have to push their buttons to get somethin' done. Then, they're always yellin' at you."_

_The train turned the last curve and was now beginning to slow down. Newkirk shifted his pack, and pulled out his ticket._

_ "All right, mate," he said. "We've gone over this plenty o' times. Just wait for my signal like we talked about."_

_ "But you did not tell me the signal," said Johann. _

_ "You'll know it when you see it," muttered Newkirk._

_ The train came to a halt beside the platform, and the passengers began to come off. Most were soldiers, on a furlough. Newkirk looked over to young fraulein and saw that her brother was a tall, bull of a man. He grimaced, reminding himself that if he ever tried to get a date with her, her brother should not be around. _

_ The few on the platform waited until all the passengers were gone before they began to board. Newkirk lined up behind Colonel Hogan, with Johann following close behind. _

_ "Got everything," asked Hogan out of the corner of his mouth. _

_ "Yes, Guv," replied Newkirk, equally discreet._

_ "Just wait for my signal," said Hogan. He then handed his ticket to the clerk and boarded._

_ "Do you know what the signal is," asked Johann, from over Newkirk's shoulder._

_ Newkirk shrugged. "I'll know when I see it."_

_ "A very organized crew you are," growled Johann, annoyed. He was beginning to wonder if he had picked the right time to volunteer for a mission as important as this one. Usually, he was just on routine pick-ups, drop-offs, or passing on information. Now, he volunteers to pick up someone off a train, and the next thing he knew, he was being ordered to get back to England. But he knew it was best. Suspicion was starting to form around him ,especially when people starting questioning where his father had gone. He honestly had no idea, but no one else knew either. _

_ Johann handed the clerk his ticket and papers. The clerk was an older gentleman; short, frail looking, with thin white hair. He looked as if he might break under a slight wind. The clerk looked back up at him and nodded, and then returned the papers. _

_ "Hope you are comfortable on your stay," said the clerk. "If you need anything, just ask and we will service you."_

_ Johann nodded. He wondered if the man ever thought about when he was going to die. Did he have a family? Was there anyone depending on his checks? Was he nice, or was he a greedy little thing? Was he a true Nazi, or was did he secretly think against the Führer's words? Before he let his thoughts turn into emotions, Johann walked down the small corridor, to where Newkirk stood waiting for him. _

_ "What now," he asked._

_ "We'll meet Colonel 'Ogan in the club car," replied the Englishman._

_ "Is that where our man is," asked Johann quickly. _

_ "I don't think so," said Newkirk. "The Guv'nor just wanted to get a drink, an' I wouldn't mind joinin' 'im."_

()()()()()()

"Andrew?"

Carter's fingers were glued to Newkirk's neck.

"André?"

Again, they got no response from their companion.

"Carter, what's wrong?"

At the Colonel's voice, Carter slowly looked up.

"He's…he's alive," Carter managed. Suddenly, he snapped into action. He pulled his coat off, and then cursed because it was not dry.

The others snapped out of their reveries. Carter and LeBeau (LeBeau trying not to gag at the sight of blood) knelt down to pull Newkirk from under the brush.

"Here, hold this," Carter said to Geoff, who was closest to him. He handed Newkirk's hat to the older man. Geoff took it and stuffed it in his pocket.

"We need to get him out of here," said Hogan. "It'll just get colder as the night goes on."

Carter and LeBeau pulled harder. Kinch, suddenly ridden with impatience, swooped down and gathered Newkirk in his arms.

"To camp," he asked Hogan.

"As quickly as we can," replied Hogan. He looked at Newkirk, and swallowed. They could not lose him now. Not after having their hopes restored.


	3. Complications

**Chapter Three: Complications**

"Watch your step," LeBeau told Kinch.

They were crossing a small stream, with slippery, smooth rocks. Kinch was being as careful as possible about stepping in the right spot, especially with the precious weight in his arms. It was difficult to see exactly where to place his foot, but with Carter and LeBeau guiding him and nearly tripping over their feet to make sure his were in the right spot, he got through the stream with no trouble. Looking ahead, he saw Johann lead his father over the ridge.

"Filthy Boche," he heard LeBeau murmur. He looked down at the Frenchman, and saw that he had been watching Geoff too. Hogan turned around, having also heard LeBeau's comment.

"Ignore him," said Hogan. "We have him now."

Hogan turned around and began walking up the ridge.

"'E is also a traitor," spat LeBeau.

"Well," said Carter, as he followed the Colonel. "Not really. We just thought he was a traitor."

"No, Carter," said LeBeau. "'E is a traitor. 'E was dealing with les Boches. Anyone who deals with them should be punished."

"Listen LeBeau," said Kinch, as he began to ascend the small hill. "We've got him now. Don't worry about it. Right now, focus on helping me get up this hill without tripping. I don't want to drop Newkirk."

The request had the desired effect. LeBeau immediately forgot Geoff and began to help Kinch find his footing. But they had only taken one step when a shout halted them in their tracks.

"LeBeau! Kinch! Run!"

It was Carter's voice. Suddenly, a shot was fired. Instinctively, LeBeau began to run up the hill, his gun drawn.

"LeBeau," said Kinch. "No! Come back! I can't protect Newkirk if I'm holding him!"

LeBeau stopped, and looked back. There were more shouts.

"Grab the Colonel!"

"Hey!"

"_Vater_, do not!"

Another shot.

"Carter!"

Another shot.

A cry of agony.

"No!"

"Get him up! And look for the others!"

LeBeau ran back to Kinch. "'Urry! We can cross the river!"

In order to be able to maneuver more easily, Kinch shifted Newkirk over his shoulder. He hoped he was not causing the Englishman anymore discomfort. At least, he was still unconscious, if that was really a good thing. Kinch and LeBeau dashed out of sight, just as a man looked over the ridge.

"They are gone!"

He looked back at his leader, a man dressed in civilian clothes but with a swastika armband, and a machine gun thrown over his shoulder. Beside him, stood Geoff, gripping his son tightly by the arm. To the right of Geoff, stood another, also dressed in civilian clothes with a swastika armband. This one held a gun to Hogan's head. Hogan was kneeling on the ground, looking at the bottom of the hill anxiously. There at the bottom of the hill, lay another man, clutching his leg right above the knee, and biting his lip to not cry out. Carter had been shot.

The leader, Berg, looked around, thinking about his next move.

"Decker," he said, looking to the man up on the hill. "I want you to get find their trail, and follow it until you can come up with a good idea about where they are headed. Then, come back to camp." Decker nodded. He ran down the hill, searching for Kinch and LeBeau. "Mandel, bind their hands. We need them walking."

"What about that one," asked Mandel, looking at Carter.

"He still has one god leg," replied Berg. "Tie up the wound. He cannot die yet."

"And my son," asked Geoff.

"He will have to be tied up for now," said Berg. "We cannot take any chances."

"That is okay," said Johann, glaring at his father. "I would rather die than be with any traitors, even if they were kin."

Geoff looked hurt only for a moment. But he took the rope Berg handed him, and tied his son's hands together.

"Let us hope it does not come down to death," said Geoff.

"_Vater_," said Johann. "It is war. There is no gray area. It is either dead, or you keep fighting."

Further conversation was halted when Carter cried out as Mandel tied the cloth around the wound tightly.

"Gag him," ordered Berg. "I do not want him making a racket the whole time."

Mandel gagged Carter, and then roughly yanked him up off the ground. Carter could barely stand up.

"Let me walk with him," said Hogan. "I promise, I won't go anywhere. Just let me make sure he doesn't fall."

Berg looked at Hogan for a long moment. He walked over and looked down at the Colonel.

"We have taken great pains to capture you, Colonel," said Berg. "Are you sure you will not go? Because if you ever decide to leave, and without our permission, I will not hesitate to shoot. And not at you. I will just fire another bullet in that boy's other leg. And then, you shall have to carry him on your back, or leave him for dead. Do we have terms?"

Hogan glared at him. "Yes, we have terms." He got up, and looked Berg straight in the eyes. "For now."

Decker chuckled. "I will enjoy keeping you in my company."

"We'll see about that," said Hogan vehemently. He spat on Berg's boots.

He expected the blow that came afterwards, but still was not prepared for the force of it. He stumbled back some, but caught himself before he fell. He heard Carter making a fuss through his gag. The young American was glaring at Berg, while trying to balance on one leg. Mandel had a tight grip on his shoulder.

Hogan got up, and walked over to Carter.

"Save it for later," he said. "Lean on me."

Carter silently leaned against his commanding officer. Mandel got behind them, and put the gun against Hogan's back.

Berg looked at Geoff. "You lead us back to the camp. I will watch your son."

Geoff just nodded solemnly and began trekking through the woods again. Johann followed, with Berg's gun in his back.

"Go," said Mandel, giving Hogan a small shove.

Hogan and Carter began to walk, finding a rhythm they could get into. Once again, they were a somber company.


	4. Meanwhile

**Chapter Four: M****eanwhile**

At Stalag 13, an event came about that was both fortunate and unfortunate for the prisoners. They would not comprehend how it was fortunate until later on, however. Around 2:00 p.m. that afternoon, the camp was very peaceful. The prisoners were, however, quite alert. Colonel Hogan and his team were all out today, on a mission to capture a German citizen with too much information and the wrong idea about who he was going to give it to. The prisoners were anxious for their comrades to return, even though they knew that Colonel Hogan and Newkirk were only just getting on the train. So, they stuck on their best bored and relaxed expressions and milled around the camp as usual.

The one roll call that they were sure to miss had already been taken care of. Shultz had already been given a few candy bars for prior notice that there would be some prisoners missing. Five more were in order for after the roll call. Kommandant Klink was already convinced that Hogan had a bad chest cold and most likely would not be at roll call. Sergeant Wilson, the camp medic, had told Colonel Hogan that it would be best to remain in bed. Of course, Wilson had also dropped a hint that it may be contagious.

Now, the event that took place was that around 2:00, one of the prisoners dropped a live cigarette in the trash pile behind the mess hall. Few people, prisoners and guards alike, went behind the mess hall. So, no one noticed for a total of five minutes that there was a fire. The first to notice it was one of the soldiers in a guard tower. He suddenly noticed the small cloud of smoke that was rising. Immediately, the alarm was sounded.

When the alarm alerted the prisoners, they were not as compliant about helping out as they had been on previous occasions. They knew it was no scheme of Colonel Hogan's. So, why bother? Without the immediate help of the prisoners, the fire grew quickly. The guards rushed in quickly, with hoses, but the angle was difficult, since it was behind the hall. Suddenly, the fire found the woodpile, and it grew high, the flames leaping up above the roof. That was when the prisoners began to pay attention, because now the fire was out of control. They sprang into action, forming water lines from the well and back. They began to douse the fire, and the areas around it, to keep it from spreading. But the fire was stronger than anyone had thought, and it quickly spread over the mess hall. It was soon apparent that the mess hall was in for it.

With the combined efforts of the guards and prisoners, the fire was finally put down to small, pathetic flames. It had taken them about two hours. After another half hour, all flames were put out, and only hot coals remained. Everyone stood back, to survey the damage.

The mess hall was now reduced to black charred pieces of wood, ashes, and the front frame, which was swaying in the strong breeze. The mess hall had been eaten away. The prisoners now realized that they had a problem. Inside the mess hall had been the camp's storage of food. This meant that the only food in camp was in Klink's kitchen, the food stored downstairs for operation use, and the Red Cross packages that the prisoners possessed. But all that was left of the packages were the preciously conserved chocolate bars. The food that London sent them was almost useless because it was rations used for the trek though the Underground Railroad when escaping. They were low on those rations as well, and no one knew when the next drop was. All in all, there was no longer enough food to sustain everyone in the camp.

Klink came out, and made the same conclusion as well. He now became nervous. Without food, the prisoners would not be the only ones agitated. The guards would also demand that whatever food came first would go to them. This would only make the prisoners worse. Hunger drove them more than freedom at time. That was often the reason any prisoner would not escape. There was no guarantee of food or supplies. Still, everyone had to realize that this purely an accident and there was no use fighting and making problems worse. Klink thought tried to think optimistically to calm himself. Looking around him, he saw guards and prisoners tired from fighting the fire. Many had their shirts off, and wet towels and rags were being distributed, along with water canteens. Guards were lounging around with their guns out of sight. Klink eventually found Shultz. The rotund guard was pulling water from the well, and filling canteens.

"Shultz," cried Klink. The guard dropped the pail back into the well and saluted immediately. He quickly walked over to Klink. The prisoners in line for their water groaned and complained.

Shultz ignored them. "Yes, Herr Kommandant?"

"Get the guards up and back to their positions," ordered Klink. "And get all the prisoners into formation for roll call. I want every man outside in front of their barracks. You are to count and recount."

Shultz's eyes went wide, knowing that a certain five prisoners were not in the vicinity.

"Um…even Colonel Hogan, Herr Kommandant," he asked.

"Yes, Shultz," answered Klink, exasperated. "I don't care how sick any prisoner is. He is to be outside at once. I will be waiting on the porch for the report."

"But what if he really is contagious," asked Shultz. He was hoping for any miracle to not have Hogan and his men found missing.

"Shultz," said Klink, a little more softly. "I don't care if he is contagious. I would rather have the entire camp with the flu, as long as Colonel Hogan was still present. Do you understand?"

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," said Shultz. He saluted once more. "Your orders will be carried out to the letter."

He turned and began to round up the prisoners.

Scotty ran over to Forrest and Baker.

"What now," he asked. "There's no excuse for them not to be here."

"I don't know," said Forrest. "I mean, when they come back, they could always just turn themselves in. We've done that before."

"But Klink will still think they've escaped," said Scotty. "What if he starts looking for tunnels and stuff like that?"

"But he won't," stated Baker firmly. "Right now, he's assuming that if any prisoner was escaping, they would by going through the wire, with all the guards looking the other way at the fire."

"But they haven't," said Scotty. "There's no proof of it."

"We'll just have to make proof," said Baker.

He ran off into the barracks. A few minutes later, he came back out, hiding a wire clipper behind his back. He crept around the side of the barracks, and then ran to the fence. Looking around, he quickly cut through several of the wires, and pulled them apart, making it as obvious as he could. Then, he got back to the barracks. When he came back out, he found Scotty and Forrest arguing with Shultz.

"You must tell me," Shultz was saying. "Are they coming back?"

"Yes," said Forrest. "They are. They just went out for a quick train ride. They'll be back in no time."

"Train ride," repeated Shultz. "Oh, _meine Gott_."

"Listen, Shultzie," said Scotty. "They'll be here. Trust me. For now, though, you'll just have to mention that they're not here."

"But you promise they will return," asked Shultz.

"Promise," added Baker. "They'll come right back they way they went out."

"The way they went out," asked Shultz suspiciously. "How did they get out?"

"The fence, Shultzie," said Baker. "They went right through it. And _you_ discovered it, right?"

Shultz's face was blank for a moment. Then, it dawned on him. "Of course _I _discovered it. Who else would…the Kommandant?"

The three prisoners laughed.

"Now," said Shultz, turning serious. "Get in line. _Raus!_ No more monkey business."

The prisoners quickly got into line. Shultz grimaced as he looked at the large gap at the beginning of the two lines. Apparently, he was not the only one who noticed it either.

"Shultz! Where is Colonel Hogan? I thought I told you to get him out at once!"

Klink hurried up beside Shultz, and looked at the space. His face fell. "And where are his men? You are also missing the little Cockroach, and the Engländer, and Sergeant Kinch and Sergeant Carter. Shultz…where are Colonel Hogan and his men?"

"Herr Kommandant," began Shultz. "I would love to answer your question clearly, but as it is…I cannot."

"You cannot," asked Klink, suddenly becoming frantic. "Shultz?"

"Herr Kommandant," said Shultz. "I beg to report that Colonel Hogan and his men have escaped in the confusion of the fire while the guards were busy."

"Then what are standing here for," cried Klink. "Sound the alarm! Release the dogs! We will not rest until we find those prisoners! Especially Colonel Hogan!"


	5. Almost

**Chapter Five: A****lmost**

_Johann sat across from Newkirk in a booth on the club car. He slid to the window and watched the countryside pass by. Across the aisle from them was Colonel Hogan, reading the newspaper. A waiter came to them, and asked them their order. Newkirk casually ordered two pale ales. Johann looked at the young waiter. It was a boy, no older than sixteen. He saw Newkirk smile at the boy as if he had known him his whole life. _

'How are you doing this'_ he thought. _'That boy will die. The old man will die.'

_ Newkirk looked back at Johann, not noticing the man's inner battle. _

_ "'Ope you like your pale ale as much as I do," said Newkirk._

_ Johann just nodded. "How long is the ride until we reach the bridge?"_

_ Newkirk thought for a moment. "About fifteen minutes."_

_ Johann raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That takes you a long way from camp." _

_ Newkirk shrugged. "Well, we've got all day and night to get back and it won't even take that long. We've got people covering for us back at camp, too. We'll just slip back in, with Klink none the wiser." _

_ The waiter came by with the two beers. Newkirk smiled gratefully and handed the boy his money, plus a generous tip. The boy thanked Newkirk._

What does a tip matter,_ thought Johann. _Extra money in your pocket is useless when you are about to die.

_ Newkirk took a quick sip of his beer, savored it for a moment, and then took a larger sip. Johann looked at his, finding that he had no stomach for it at the time. But he knew it would be suspicious if he was not enjoying his beer, so he took a few little sips._

_ Johann once again watched the countryside pass by. But soon, they passed out of the fields and into the woods, and trees and brush whooshed by. Every now and then, he would look from Newkirk to Colonel Hogan, noting their experienced calm. Colonel Hogan never looked up, but kept his eyes glued to the newspaper. When the young waiter came by, he politely sent him away. Johann thought that maybe Colonel Hogan, too, did not want to have dealings with people he knew were about to be killed, and by his own hand. Johann still wondered about Newkirk, who never seemed to mind anything. Johann always remembered Newkirk to be very uncaring about anything. If it looked too difficult, then why bother? Still, when his part came, he was dangerously perfect._

_ As he gazed out the window, deep in thought, he lost track of time. When Newkirk tapped his shoulder, bringing him out of his ponderings, he could hardly believe that it had been fifteen minutes._

_ "It has only been ten," Newkirk told him. He was now speaking German, and Johann realized that they were about to move. He looked to Colonel Hogan, who was folding up his newspaper. Newkirk lowered his voice. "We are going to go get our man, now. You will go with the Colonel. I am going to go take this train."_

_ Johann nodded, and they stood up. He leaned in to Newkirk._

_ "I thought you said I was going with you, and we would be picking up our man, while Colonel Hogan was going to stop the train," he said._

_ "Change of plans," replied Newkirk. "Just follow the Colonel and do what he tells you."_

_ "When did we change the plans?" asked Johann. _

_ "Just now," said Newkirk, smiling devilishly. "You were too busy looking out the window."_

_ Johann flushed some, but just nodded. The Colonel came up to them._

_ "You got what we're doing?" he asked._

_ "Yes," replied Johann. "As long as we don't change the plans while I am not looking."_

_ Colonel Hogan and Newkirk chuckled. Then, Hogan looked at Newkirk, and clapped him on the back._

_ "See you in a bit," he said. "Be careful."_

_ "C'mon Guv'nor," said Newkirk. "Aren't I always careful?"_

_ Hogan shook his head, and then they split ways. Hogan and Johann went out one way, and Newkirk the other._

()()()()()()

"LeBeau…LeBeau….we've got…to…rest."

LeBeau stopped, breathing heavily. He looked behind him, and saw Kinch stumbling with exhaustion.

"Shhh," said LeBeau. "Get down."

Kinch slowly knelt down on the ground, and pulled Newkirk off his shoulder. He laid the Englishman against a tree, and then leaned against the tree beside him. He looked at Newkirk.

With all the blood wiped away, he looked much better. But the fact that he had not moved nor made a sound since they found him was not encouraging. He was still damp, and it was now well after dark. Kinch had no clue how long they had been running, but he had been ready to fall over at any moment. The only thing that kept him from falling most of the time was that he knew if he fell, he would be doing Newkirk more harm.

LeBeau walked over to him, and sat beside him.

"There is no sign of them," he said. "I think we lost them, or they got tired of following us." He looked at Newkirk. "'Ow is 'e?"

"See for yourself," said Kinch. "He hasn't moved a bit."

LeBeau swallowed, and Kinch knew he was thinking the worst. The Frenchman put his fingers against Newkirk's neck, assuring himself that his friend was still there. The heartbeat was still weak.

"'E needs a doctor," said LeBeau. "And a warm place."

"I know," said Kinch. "But where?" He looked up at the stars. "We've run ourselves further away from camp. We won't make it back until dawn. And with Colonel Hogan and Carter captured…LeBeau, we've got ourselves into a fix."

LeBeau nodded. "Well, let's think about where we are. Maybe there is a safe 'ouse nearby. At least there, we can get some rest, and get Pierre someplace warm."

"Yeah," said Kinch. "I never thought of that."

LeBeau smiled. "Do not worry, _mon ami_. You 'ave been too busy transporting Newkirk everywhere. 'E will owe you when 'e wakes up. Do not forget that."

Kinch nodded, and small smile formed on his lips. He began to think about everywhere they had been today, seeking out a safe house in the vicinity. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and looked at LeBeau.

"I know it," he exclaimed.

"You get more like _le Colonèl_ every day," said LeBeau.

"Whatever," said Kinch. "But listen. If I'm right, we're not too far from the Bachmeier's place. We could go there."

"Of course," said LeBeau. He jumped up. Kinch sat up, satisfied that at least now they had one problem down.

The Bachmeier's were a family in the Underground. The head of the household, Karl, was actually a doctor, and was always taking care of wounded partisans. His wife, Analiese was like a mother to anyone who dropped by looking for help. Their doors were always open to take care of anyone who asked for it. They were even known to take care of wounded German soldiers, purely out of the kindness in their hearts. But they were well-known partisans themselves. They had both taken part in WWI, though Karl had actually fought in that one as a German soldier. They had two boys who were in their late twenties. Both had so far been able to dodge the draft because they were also doctors. They worked in local hospitals and sometimes went to larger cities to work in those hospitals. There was Franz, the elder son, and then Pepin the youngest. Both were active partisans when they had the time. And like their parents, they held their doors open for most. However, they were not as welcoming as their parents were to German soldiers.

Kinch stood up, and then leaned down to pick up Newkirk again.

But then, the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping was heard, and he froze. He looked at LeBeau who had his gun poised. Both were still, waiting for more movement to be heard. Then, LeBeau leaned against the tree. Kinch followed suit, and drew his own gun. He stood in front of Newkirk, hoping to conceal his presence if it had not already been noted. For a long moment, the woods were silent.

"Perhaps it was just a small animal," said LeBeau, hopefully.

"Yeah," said Kinch.

But neither of them was at ease.

They waited another long moment, but they were anxious to get moving again.

"Let's get out of 'ere," said LeBeau.

Kinch nodded. He holstered his gun again, and then knelt down to pick up Newkirk. He did not put him over his shoulder this time, but cradled him gently.

They did not even take a step when once again, a voice halted them. The voice was in German.

"Put your guns down, and turn around slowly," said a man. They could not see him. He was behind them. But they saw shadows moving around them. They were being surrounded. "If you do not do as you are told, you will be shot where you stand."

LeBeau tossed his pistol out in front of him, and then pulled Kinch's out and tossed it away too. Then, he put his hands up. He looked at Kinch. Kinch looked back, a sorrowful and defeated look on his face.

Could this day get any worse?


	6. Explanations

**Chapter Six: E****xplanations**

Carter focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and not letting go of Colonel Hogan. The pain from his leg had originally been almost unbearable. Now, it was a constant throb that he was learning to cope with. But if he stumbled, by missing his footing, a sudden jolt of pain would shoot through him, and it felt like his whole leg was on fire. He would then try and keep a cry from coming forth, but he always ended up whimpering through the gag. Colonel Hogan would then try and keep him quiet by telling him encouraging things they both knew were not true.

While Carter tried focusing, he was tired, and he was only becoming more tired. Hogan saw this, and knew that it would only be too soon when Carter would give in to his exhaustion. Periodically, Hogan would check the wound. The cloth was now stained with blood, but most of the surrounding area of Carter's leg was dry. Hogan knew this was as good as it was going to get for right now. As long as Carter did not lose too much blood, he would remain alive. The next problem would be preventing infection. Hogan assumed that they would not be placed in very accommodating cells or rooms. It was likely that wherever they were kept would be dirty or at least unkempt.

Hogan began to think about where exactly they were going. He expected that as soon as they were captured, they would be heading towards a road, to be loaded onto trucks. He expected to end up at Gestapo headquarters with a Gestapo officer standing over him demanding answers. He saw Major Hochstetter clearly in his mind when he pictured this. However, so far, these men had shown no sign of being with the Gestapo. He just knew that they were Nazis, and that they had captured him, knowing exactly who he was. This was discomforting. They had been ambushed; there was no way around it. Someone had tipped them off.

Now that he had wrapped his mind around that fact, Hogan moved on to what they knew. This group knew what they were doing. They had had no trouble finding them or capturing them. They were organized; Decker gave the orders and the men followed the orders. From what he heard while they talked, they had an organized camp somewhere, where there were others waiting for them. Geoff appeared to be one of them. However, he did not seem entirely like them. He seemed to be someone who had been looking for ways of advancing himself, and just made the wrong choice. Hogan decided that Geoff could probably be bought later on, especially with Johann.

What good he could see, was that LeBeau and Kinch had gotten away with Newkirk. They would figure something out. Hopefully, they would get Newkirk help and then alert the Underground. With the Underground on the move looking for them, Hogan was sure they would not be missing for long, no matter where they were kept. But they were still in no some trouble. With Carter wounded, and Decker knowing that Hogan would do anything to protect him, they had the upper hand. If they wanted information, Hogan knew he could not give it to them. But what price would Carter pay? And would he or Hogan pay it long? If it was obvious they were going to get nothing, would these people bother keeping them alive?

The amount of variables involved made Hogan dizzy. Especially all that was against them. They were outnumbered in every way. Their only hope for now was to wait it out as long as they could. Eventually, they had to be found. Germany just was not big enough to hide Papa Bear and one of his cubs.

()()()()()()

They walked for about two hours before they came to a log cabin. Hogan had been trying to keep his sense of direction, looking to the stars after the sun set. But the trees concealed most of them, and it proved difficult to look at them and take care of Carter. The cabin was lit, and there was a man standing guard outside the backdoor. Beside his feet, there was a cellar opening. It was obvious where they would be headed.

Geoff stopped outside the backdoor. Berg came around, but Mandel remained behind Hogan and Carter with his Lugar against Hogan's back.

"Open the cellar," Berg ordered Geoff. Geoff quickly complied, and threw both doors open. Berg motioned for Johann, Carter, and Hogan to get in. Johann glanced at his father one last time, and then went down. He vanished into the darkness. Hogan glared at Berg, who smirked. Hogan then led Carter slowly into the cellar. He could not see where he was going at all, which unnerved him.

"Keep coming and walk straight," he heard Johann say from in front of him.

Hogan followed Johann's directions, and eventually found himself beside Johann. They looked up, and saw—with a little bit of light from the outside world—Berg looking down at them.

"I would not try anything if I were you," he said. "They doors are locked with guards. If one of you makes a run for it, we will not hesitate to shoot to kill."

"Gee," said Hogan. "Sounds just like that ole prison camp I've been in, just minding my own business."

"I highly doubt that," said Berg with a sneer.

Berg stepped back and flashed a triumphant smirk to them, right before Mandel slammed the doors shut, sending them into complete darkness. They heard the chains being locked again, and then there was silence.

"What now?" asked Johann.

"We make ourselves comfortable and think our way out of this," answered Hogan. "First, I need to take care of Carter."

Hogan carefully lowered himself and Carter to the ground. Then, being the only one with free hands, he untied Carter's gag and the ropes around his wrists. Then, he untied Johann's hands as well.

"Colonel…" Carter murmured in pain.

"I'm here Carter," said Hogan, touching the young man's shoulder. "How you doin' buddy?"

"I will look for some kind of light," said Johann. They heard him get up and carefully shuffle around the cellar.

"I think I'm okay, sir," said Carter. "It hurts pretty bad, but I haven't lost too much blood, I think."

"No," said Hogan, as he lightly pressed his fingers against the bandanna. Carter gritted his teeth. "Sorry. It doesn't feel damp. That's good."

"At least it's warm down here, sir," said Carter.

"Yeah," said Hogan. "And not too hot."

"Colonel Hogan?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think the others got away okay?"

"I don't know, Carter. They had a head start, but not a very big one. And Kinch was carrying Newkirk."

"If they get captured, though, Newkirk won't make it, will he?"

Hogan sighed wearily and sadly.

"Andrew…even if we had gotten back to camp there was a good chance Newkirk would not have lived. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, I do. I know what can kill a man."

"I know, I know. I just…I didn't want you to get your hopes up too high."

"Well, I won't stop praying. He has to live. I mean, Kinch and LeBeau can always free us, but boy would it be great to see Newkirk bust up in here and free us too. He would have those chains unlocked in a sec."

"Miracles don't happen often, Carter. And I believe finding Newkirk alive was already quite a miracle."

"Ya never know, sir. Maybe this time—"

"Found a lamp," called Johann. A light slowly began to take over the room. They saw that the cellar was rather large and mostly empty. It was about twenty feet by ten. There were shelves and shelves but almost nothing on them. Johann was standing by a wall, where there were two oil lamps, some blankets, and a table with a water jug and six mugs on it. It was obvious that their captors had planned to capture all of them. There were also matches and two packs of cigarettes.

"Nice folks, aren't they," said Hogan. "But I'm more of a cigar man."

"I certainly do not mind," said Johann. "I think I could use something to calm my nerves."

Hogan helped Carter up and walked him over to the table. He sat down in one chair and put his leg up on another. Hogan poured him some water. Carter gratefully drank most of it in one gulp.

"Slow down," said Hogan. "I don't want to die because you choked on some water."

Carter smiled sheepishly. "Yes, sir."

"Now," said Hogan, as he seated himself in another chair. "I believe you have some explaining to do, Johann."

Johann sat down as well.

"Ja, I suppose I do," he said. "About my father?"

Hogan nodded.

"Very well," said Johann. "But first, I must apologize for not telling you this before. Those whom I originally worked with were old friends, and they knew from the beginning about my father's bad friendships, so to speak. "

"Don't apologize," growled Hogan. "Just tell it like it is."

At this tone, Johann nervously looked down and Carter shot Hogan a confused look. Hogan noticed.

"Sorry," he said. "But so far everything has gone wrong, and I need to know why."

"That is fine, Colonel," said Johann. "I know how you must be feeling. With Carter here shot, and Newkirk most likely dead—".

"He- is-not-dead," said Carter suddenly. Each word was stated with utmost conviction.

"Right," said Johann quickly. "With Newkirk wounded as well, and your men being pursued, I understand the anger and confusion you must be feeling. I am feeling it myself, because I swear to you, I never knew that my father was on that train. I thought he had given up dealing with the people he dealt with when I was younger."

"You mean he has done something like this before," asked Hogan incredulously.

"Nothing of this magnitude," said Johann. "But he was always a cheater of some sort. If he ever had a chance to advance himself, he would take it, even if it meant put others in harm's way. Eventually, my mother and I became fed up with it, and tried to talk him out of it. Then, after my mother died, it hit him hard, and he realized how much pain he had caused her. He changed, and I knew it. I was frequently in contact with him. Then, once Germany was beginning to become corrupted and we were caught up in so much, like the rest of the nation, we began to part ways again."

"But as soon as Hitler seized power, I went to my father, and offered him to leave Germany with me. He refused, saying he could never leave his homeland. I would never get the opportunity to leave, because I was soon called to service. My father and I stayed in touch, as I trained in the military. Then, I was sent to the fronts when we advanced through Poland, and then into the Balkan nations. I barely saw any action. Mostly, I detained forces and was sent on recon missions for signs of partisans. I fired maybe three shots the whole time. Then, I was sent into France, where I fought more."

"I hated it. I knew it was wrong, but I had no choice. I would have been shot on the spot if I so much as looked like I was regretting it. Still, I began to plan my escape from the military. There were many more partisans in France, especially as we moved further west. The further we went, the more panicked people came, and the more they fought. Mostly, however, the only real troops were British. I advanced with the Panzers; the same Panzers who eventually made it to Dunkirk. I was wounded when we were taking over an airbase. When we arrived, bombers were taking off with fleeing soldiers. Our planes were picking them off. Other soldiers, who were left behind, were running around the base, looking for a way back to get to the sea. I was shot in the leg by some terrified RAF kid."

"When I returned, I found out that I had been given an almost permanent furlough home. It would take me awhile to get back on my feet 100%. When I was sent home, I found that my father had left, and no one knew where he had gone. I tried looking for him, but no one knew anything. I prayed that he had finally left Germany. I also prayed that he had not been taken with the 'Night and Fog Decrees'. You see, I suspected this because I wrote some things in my letters that could have questioned my loyalty to Hitler's Germany. Well, after a year, I gave up, and moved on with my life. I participated in the Underground where I could, and once I was completely well, I began going on missions. But I swear to you, I had never heard from, or seen my father until today, on the train."

He took a deep breath and let it out, as if he had taken a great weight of his chest.

Carter looked at Hogan, who was scrutinizing Johann with an unreadable expression on his face. Finally, he nodded.

"I believe you," said Hogan. "You sure have done enough for us for me not to believe you otherwise. And you're not the only man to have disagreeable relatives. Still, he looks a bit queasy. I think we can get him on our side."

"You would have to come up with something that was almost foolproof for him," said Johann. "He only cares about his own life."

"Well," said Hogan. "If I ever came up with something completely foolproof, this war would be over. I would have Hitler shot in a sec. But, that isn't how things work. Still, I can come up with something awfully good."

"Boy, you can sir," said Carter. He looked at Johann excitedly. "Colonel Hogan here sometimes comes up with the wackiest stuff, but we always pull through. Right, Colonel?"

Hogan nodded and got up. He began to pace. Carter looked at Johann again.

"This is what he does when he's trying to think of something," said Carter.

"You are very talkative and optimistic for having just been shot in the leg after finding your friend almost dead, and then watching the rest of our group get pursued," said Johann.

Carter shrugged. "Someone's gotta be."

"Isn't realistic safer," asked Johann.

"You would think," said Hogan sarcastically.

"Well," said Carter. He took a deep breath. "This is the way I see it: You need to have a good balance of realism and optimism because it makes you see both sides of a situation and not always the bad which can either make you feel bad or make you not want to do something anymore, because all you see is the bad, and not the good. Now, on our team, I'm kinda at one side of the spectrum. The other side would be Newkirk I think. He always thinks something bad is going to happen. They almost never do, well, except this time. But usually, we never have any real problems. Especially with Colonel Hogan around. Right, Colonel?"

Hogan stopped and looked at Carter. He put an arm around the young American's shoulders.

"Ya wanna know one of my secrets to that success, Carter," asked Hogan.

"Oh, please, sir," replied Carter anxiously.

"It's when I have PEACE AND QUIET TO THINK," stated Hogan firmly.

"Oh," said Carter, softly. "Sorry."

Johann burst out laughing, and Hogan playfully pushed down Carter's hat over his eyes.

"Well," said Carter indignantly. "I think I'll just go to sleep then. At least I won't have to worry about making too much noise."

"As long as you don't snore," said Hogan. He helped Carter get down on the floor. He laid out a blanket for the Sergeant and then gave him another blanket. "Sweet dreams."

"In here," asked Carter. "Not happening."


	7. Onward

**Chapter Seven: O****nward**

_Newkirk casually made his way through the passenger cars, as if looking for a nice place to sit. No one he saw regarded him suspiciously. There were very few people on the train, and those that were soldiers who appeared to be on leave or returning from a furlough. The guards on the train were all SS, making Newkirk nervous. But he did not allow himself to appear nervous. This was where even his most minor acting talents came into play._

_ When he came to the last passenger car, he saw no one. The corridor was empty, and there were no guards at the door like there had been previously. This made him suspicious. He checked his watch. He did not have long before he had to be at the engine room. Newkirk slowly began to walk to each compartment, and casually look in. There was no one. He looked up and saw two more compartments between him and the door, which separated him from the line of cargo cars. _

_ "Will eine Zigarette?" _(1)

_ Newkirk nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around and saw no one. His hand flew to his hip, where his gun was concealed beneath his clothes. _

_ "Sicher." _(2)

_ Newkirk spun around again. The voices were coming from the next compartment. He sighed with relief, and casually looked in. There were two SS guards lounging in the compartment, one on each bench, lying on their backs. Their automatics were lying on the ground, and their helmets off. Newkirk smiled._

_ Then, one of them looked up and spotted him. _

_ "He! Was machen Sie hier?" _(3)

_ Newkirk stood up straight as the two soldiers jumped up, and grabbed their automatics, looking at him suspiciously._

_ "Traurig. Ich habe nur gehört, dass Ihre Stimmen und habe gedacht, dass es jemand war, den ich gewusst habe." _(4)

_ He quickly turned around and walked down the aisle. The two guards watched him until he turned into one of the compartments and shut the door. Then, they shrugged and went back to lying down._

_ Once in the compartment, Newkirk sighed with relief, and wearily sank against the bench. He looked at the window. It was time to get out. He jumped up, and opened the window. He stuck his head out and looked up, to see exactly where he was. The roof of the train was not too far from the top of the window. Piece of cake._

_ He carefully, with the agility that would make a cat proud, climbed out of the window and stood on his toes on the thin ledge. Looking down, he watched the ground rush by. Using the handle of the window as a footstep, he pushed himself up to quickly grab the ledge above the window. Then, he pulled himself up, and grabbed the roof. Finally, with one last pull, he was on top. He gathered his balance for a moment, and looked around. There was absolutely no one in the world that could see him. The countryside was wide open, and for a moment he watched it go by with a pleased smile. He was enjoying the sense of freedom he had. Then, he shouldered his pack more comfortably, with a serious expression. He was not really free, however. He was bound here to do his duty, and then return to a POW camp. No; no matter how many times he left camp, he knew he would never be a free man until they were liberated._

_ He turned his eyes to the engine, and began to trek that way. He jumped from the last passenger car to the first cargo car easily. Satisfied that he was good now, he moved on. On each cargo car, he left a little something behind: one of Carter's charges, which would be set off by the charges that took the bridge. This was to insure that any precious cargo would not make it out. Most of it was supplies that were going to be routed to the Eastern Front. _

_ It did not take him long to arrive at the engine. There had been no obstacles, and he had been enjoying running atop the train. The thought of him being right on the Nazis head and they did not even know made him want to laugh. Instead, he just smiled like a cat who got the cream. _

_ As he stood on the cargo car that came before the engine, he looked ahead. They were about to enter the woods, which told him it would not be much longer until they came to the bridge, where he was supposed to stop the train. But not yet. He sat down on roof of the car. For now, he would enjoy the luscious scenery as the train passed through Germany's forests._

()()()()()()

LeBeau was now hopeless. He was frozen in place as the shadows around them stopped moving. He had his hands above his head, and now they felt as if they would tremble. He was frightened, angry, and worried. He did not know what was going to happen to them, and most importantly Newkirk. He was angry at everything for going so wrong. Did they not deserve some sort of respite in this mess? Or, had all of their precious luck, which seemed to be preserving them before, left them. LeBeau had never felt so alone.

But he was not alone. Beside him was Kinch, who was always calm and thoughtful. Then there was Newkirk, his best friend, and they had always been there for one another. Albeit he was very unhelpful now, as long as LeBeau knew he was alive, he would find some comfort. As long as he thought that Colonel Hogan and Carter were alive, he knew there was some hope in the world for them all to make it through any obstacles.

When someone began to step from the shadows, LeBeau turned all his thoughts to the present. He was focusing on every move they were making, looking for a weakness he could act upon. Then, he squinted some, peering at the person walking forward. There was something familiar about the person, how he walked. Then:

"LeBeau, Kinch, is that you?"

LeBeau was frozen in place upon hearing the voice. His eyes went wide as Pepin Bachmeier stepped out from the shadows and into the dim light the stars were giving off. He could not even lower his hands, he was so surprised.

"Pepin?" asked Kinch.

"Yes, it is me," said Pepin. "_Halten Sie Ihr Feuer, Brüder. Diese sind Freunde._" (5)

A few more men stepped out, their guns drawn, but down. LeBeau slowly lowered his hands and looked around him. Most of the men he had seen before but were not acquainted with. He only knew them as contacts they ran into every now and then from town and the surrounding countryside. At least all of them at one point had dropped by Stalag 13 with reconnaissance information. Then, Franz stepped out, and LeBeau realized that he had been the one to order them to drop their guns. Franz smiled, and then saw Newkirk.

"What happened?" he asked, clearly alarmed.

"A lot," said Kinch. "We've got no time to explain now. We were on our way to your parents' house. It's the safest pace for us now that's nearby. We can explain then."

"Of course," said Pepin. "Follow us. We know our way through these woods better than you. Would you like one of us to carry him? No doubt you have been carrying for some time now."

Kinch would not have minded relieving his rams of the burden. But he was not going to give Newkirk up so easily, even though he trusted Pepin, Franz, and their companions. To Kinch, however, too much unpredictable events had been taking place for him to simple hand over the life of his friend. These were all events he wished he could have had some hand in to prevent them from happening. As long as he had Newkirk in his arms, though, he knew he could still prevent him harm.

"No," he said softly. "I can carry him."

He knew it sounded blunt, and rude, but he saw no reason to explain himself.

"_Mon ami_, you should let them—"

Kinch cut LeBeau off with a look that told the Frenchman everything. If anyone would understand, it would be LeBeau. He had been with Newkirk longer than anyone, and knew what it meant to hold his—or anyone's for that matter—life in his hands.

"Very well," said LeBeau. He looked at Franz and Pepin. "Lead the way."

The two young Germans did not question LeBeau and Kinch any further. They had been around the men of Stalag 13 long enough to be able to see when silent information was being passed along. Though they could not comprehend it, they knew not to question it. If Kinch and LeBeau had wanted to explain themselves, they would have. Otherwise, it was not their business.

The members of the Underground fanned out around LeBeau, Kinch, Franz and Pepin. They took a less harsh path, and the trek through the woods was not long before they came out into an open field. In the distance, a farm could be seen. The barn stood before the house, but from one window on the second floor, a light could be seen. It was the lantern that was always kept on at night, letting the Underground know they were home. The farm was so remote that few patrols came out this way unless they were in pursuit of someone. Even more so, a German officer had never been seen present. The likelihood of anything suspicious being reported was slim. When LeBeau saw the light, he suddenly became more hopeful than he had been in a long time.

Franz turned to the others.

"_Sie sollten nach Hause zurückkehren. Wenn wir Sie brauchen, werden wir Sie rufen._" (6)

They all nodded and turned to leave.

"Wait," said Kinch. They stopped, and looked to him. "They have Carter and the Colonel."

"What?" asked Franz fiercely. "Why did you not tell us before?"

"I don't know," said Kinch. "I guess…I didn't know who to trust. I knew I could trust you and Pepin, but…I am sorry. I know I can trust everyone here. But they took us by surprise. Someone tipped them off. Someone somewhere knew what was happening. I wanted to be sure we were not walking into a trap before I said anything."

Franz looked at LeBeau. "And you?"

"The same, _mon ami_," replied LeBeau softly. "_Je suis désolée_. I should 'ave known better as well. But once you 'ear what 'as 'appened, you will understand why we did it. Please, forgive us."

"We do," said Pepin quickly, offering them a kind smile. He looked at Franz hopefully.

"We cannot just leave you out here," said the German.

LeBeau and Pepin glared, but Kinch just sighed. Then, Newkirk shifted and groaned. All eyes flew to him, and any soreness between them was forgotten. LeBeau stepped up to him, and looked at Newkirk's face.

"_Pierre? Réveillez, mon ami. Vous avez dormi trop longtemps._" (7)

One of the Underground agents stepped forward and put a hand on Kinch's shoulder.

"We will look scout the woods. Where did it take place?"

Kinch gave him a brief description of the attack and where he thought they had been. The agent nodded with understanding.

"We know the area," he said. "We will look until we find something." He looked down at Newkirk. "Take care of your man. He is too young to die."

"Take care of yourself," said Kinch. "We can't lose you either."

The older man laughed. "Do not worry. I know these woods well. I will not be taken by surprise easily." He patted Kinch on the shoulder. "Take care of your man and rest. We shall keep watch tonight and look for your Papa Bear. Too much is at stake with him in the enemy's hands."

"_Oui_," said LeBeau, eyeing the man suspiciously. "Be quick. We do not know what is to 'appen to them."

The agent simply nodded and with a few words to the others, they left the field, and melted back into the woods. Then, Newkirk shifted and groaned again.

"Come quickly," said Franz. He turned and began to run towards the farm. Pepin nodded to them and followed his older brother. LeBeau looked at Kinch.

"Just once more, _mon ami_," he said.

Kinch nodded and looked at Newkirk.

"Hold on, buddy," he whispered, watching LeBeau run. "Don't go without us."

()()()()()()

When Kinch came running to the backdoor, LeBeau was standing just inside, holding a lantern. Beside him was Karl Bachmeier, pulling his suspenders over his shoulders. He was a tall, thin man, and growing older every day, even though he did not act like it. He, like his sons, was a perfect specimen to Hitler's Aryan race. He had piercing blue eyes that always peered through his flimsy spectacles. His hair, an almost white-blond, was ruffled. He had obviously just woken up. He pulled his glasses from his shirt pocket and put them on, just as Kinch walked in. LeBeau shut the door and locked it behind them.

"In here," was all Karl said. He briskly walked from the kitchen, through the living room, and into their guest bedroom. Inside, they found Analiese Bachmeier bringing in a basin of water and some rags. Pepin came in with his father's doctor's bags. Franz poked his head in.

"I'll keep watch," he said. I will keep watch. He left quickly.

Kinch gently laid Newkirk on the bed, lastly placing his head against the pillows. For a long moment, he and LeBeau just looked down at their friend, while Karl, Analiese, and Pepin bustled about. Then, Karl laid one hand on each of their shoulders.

"Go," he said. "You have done everything you can do now. Go rest. Analiese will get you something to eat."

LeBeau patted Newkirk's hand. "_Nous vous attendrons_." (8)

Kinch put an arm around LeBeau's shoulders and escorted him from the room. Analiese followed them and quietly closed the door behind her. She looked at them sadly, and then left them alone. Kinch looked down at LeBeau, and saw the Frenchman wiping his wet eyes. Kinch looked away.

"'E cannot die, Kinch," murmured LeBeau.

"He won't," replied Kinch. He only half believed in the hope he tried to have his words give off.

"Come," Analiese beckoned them to the kitchen. Kinch waited while LeBeau composed himself and they went into the kitchen together. Analiese had a kettle on the stove, and was busily hurrying about the kitchen. "I do not have any hot food. I was not planning on cooking until tomorrow. However, if my memory serves me correct, both of you enjoy chicken sandwiches."

Analiese was a petite woman. She was only slightly taller than LeBeau, which was often joked about. Beside her husband and sons, she appeared that she could break under the slightest pressure. This was untrue on many levels. Counter to her appearance, she was strong both in mind and body. She always made sure guests were comfortable and that her family was well. If you were in her home, you were treated like family, no matter who you were. She kept the house running. Though the farm was now much out of use, she still took care of chickens and pigs because going into town wasted much of her day, so she said. It was a long walk into town, but no one had ever seen her take a car. If she needed to, she would rig up the buggy with their two beautiful Clydesdale horses. The tale of acquiring the Clydesdales is an entire other story, but almost everyone in the Underground had a different tale for it. Only Analiese knew the true story. Karl decided to stay out of it, so he never took to learning the real tale.

Kinch was grateful for Analiese's calm. Even though he knew the others regarded him as being able to function well and under control with pressure, he felt that he was about to lose it at any moment.

"Yes ma'am," he replied. He looked at LeBeau for any response, but the Frenchman was staring into space. Analiese noted it.

"Do not worry, Louis," she said. "Our Peter will be okay."

"Perhaps," said LeBeau. "But what about _mon Colonèl et André_? They are out there, somewhere, in the 'ands of the enemy. What if…what if we do not get to them in time?"

"We will!"

LeBeau snapped his head to Kinch in shock. Analiese stopped briefly, and then continued making the sandwiches. Kinch was shaking with anger, fear, and sadness. He stood up, and began to pace. LeBeau watched him.

"I'm sorry," said Kinch softly. "But we can't think like that. We can't. If we do, we'll lose. And we'll lose everything. If these people know who we are, we have to be ready. And being ready doesn't include dwelling on horrible thoughts. As of now, and always, Carter and Colonel Hogan are alive, and until I see two bodies, they always will be. Got it?"

His voice had continued to get louder, so that his last two words were just as demanding as his first two. LeBeau was now watching him wide eyed. Kinch saw that LeBeau was also afraid, angry, and sad. The radioman immediately felt a sharp pang of pity. He sat down, and held his head in his hands, trying to calm himself.

"I agree," said LeBeau. "Forgive me. I should not have said those things. You are right, as usual. We must continue on, believing the best, because that is all we have ever accepted."

Kinch looked up. LeBeau smiled at him, and there was no trace of fear or anger or sadness in his expression.

"Okay," said Kinch. "Then that's it."

"Right," said LeBeau. He sat back. "What first?"

"We need to contact the others at camp," said Kinch. "No doubt they're wondering what in the hell is going on."

"Actually," interjected Analiese. "First, you will eat. If you are to continue this work throughout the night, you cannot go on an empty stomach."

LeBeau and Kinch opened their mouths to protest, but Analiese held up her hand.

"_Nein. Essen_." (9)

LeBeau and Kinch looked at one another, and then back at Analiese.

"_Oui, oui, ma mère_," said LeBeau teasingly.

He and Kinch gratefully began to devour their sandwiches. Analiese placed two mugs of hot coffee in front of them.

"_Bitte_, swallow your food. It will do you no good to choke on it," she said.

"Yes, mother," replied Kinch playfully.

"Hmph," said Analiese. "I get almost no respect around here, and for a little old lady like myself, I think I deserve more."

But she smiled, and left the room quickly, just as Franz walked back in through the kitchen door. He watched his mother hurry upstairs. Pepin came in.

"What now?" asked the younger Bachmeier.

"I was just telling your mother we need to contact the others at the camp," said Kinch. "They need to know what's happening, and we need to know what's going on over there, so that we can help them keep us being out a secret."

"But we 'ave been ordered to eat first," said LeBeau, as he took another large bite. "But tha's an erder I'm willin' ta follow."

"Don't talk with your mouth full," said Kinch. "Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?"

LeBeau swallowed the food. "She tried. But I was always little, cute, and adorable enough to make 'er not care."

The others chuckled. Kinch took one gigantic bite and sent it down with another gulp of coffee. LeBeau put back his mug and drank the last of his coffee as well. Kinch stood up and looked at the two brothers.

"Radio," he asked.

"Right," said Pepin. "It is downstairs in the basement. Follow us."

"Wait," said Franz. He grabbed onto Kinch's arm gently. "I am sorry…for what I said back there in the woods. I should not have accused you. I do not know what happened to you, and I imagine you were still thinking about it. Please, forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive," said Kinch. "We all made mistakes today. Even Newkirk did. That's part of the reason why he's a mess right now."

"You need to tell us what happened," said Pepin.

"All in good time," said LeBeau. "Right now, we need to radio the camp."

"Get going then," said Franz. "I will come to you if there is anything."

They split ways. Kinch and LeBeau followed Pepin into through the cellar door from the kitchen. Once below, Pepin walked across the room to the far shelves, and carefully opened a door that was concealed as a shelf. The door led to a smaller room, which contained the radio, a few spare uniforms, and some weapons. Pepin sat down at the workbench that held the radio, and plugged everything in. He then moved out of the way for Kinch. Kinch sat down and quickly found their wavelength.

"Jaegar to Goldilocks, Jaegar to Goldilocks. Do your read me?"

There was nothing but static for a long moment. Kinch tried again.

"Jaegar to Goldilocks. Jaegar to Goldilocks."

Static followed again. Then:

"Goldilocks to Jaegar. We read you loud and clear. Please continue."

Kinch and LeBeau easily recognized Baker's voice.

"Baker, it's Kinch."

"Kinch? Gee, man, where are you?"

"At the Bachmeier's. We ran into some trouble. How are things at camp?"

"Rough. There was a fire. It burnt down the entire mess hall. We didn't get any dinner tonight, and we're certain there's no breakfast tomorrow. But that's not the worst part. After the fire was put out, Klink had a roll call made. There was no way to hide that fact that you fellas were missing."

"So he thinks we escaped?"

"Yep. But not with tunnels, so they're not searching for those. We cut the wire before they got too smart. They think you guys left during the confusion."

"So no one suspects anything about the operation, right?"

"Not a thing. Klink's more worried about Burkhalter and Hochstetter showing up because Colonel Hogan is gone. Not to mention he's trying to keep everyone happy without food. Not even the guards got dinner. No one can think of anything else, so you know Klink won't. And the camp just got supplies next week. We're not due for quite awhile."

Kinch sighed.

"Well, at least there's no reason for them to suspect the operation."

"Maybe. But when Hochstetter gets here, he'll be looking for anything. He's always been onto us, we just keep delaying him. If he shows up before you guys get back, what does the Colonel want us to do?"

"Well, that's mainly the problem. Colonel Hogan and Carter got captured by unknown assailants, and we haven't seen them since. LeBeau and I couldn't follow them because we were taking care of Newkirk, who was nearly killed when we blew the bridge and train. We had to run for it, because we were outnumbered. The Bachmeiers found us, though, so that's how we got here."

"Oh, boy. We are in a mess. Well, what do you want us to do if Hochstetter shows up?"

"What?"

"You're the boss without the Colonel around."

"Oh, well, if Hochstetter shows before we do, play innocent as usual. There's nothing to say that the Gestapo is involved right now. So Hochstetter can't touch y'all. But just be ready, just in case."

"Got it, Kinch. What are you guys gonna do?"

"Get Colonel Hogan and Carter back."

"Anything we can do?"

"No. Not right now, anyway. Just keep yourselves alive, and out of Hochstetter's hands if you can."

"Got it. So, how's Newkirk?"

"Karl's with him right now. He hasn't even woken up yet."

"Kinch, he's gonna live, right?"

"Of course he will."

There was a pause before the response.

"Yes, of course he will. What was I thinking? Well, good luck. We'll be on the wire if you need us."

"Right. Good luck to you guys, too."

"Thanks. Goldilocks signing off."

"Jaegar signing off."

Kinch clicked off the radio, and looked at LeBeau.

"We leave for a few hours, and the place goes up in flames," said LeBeau.

Kinch chuckled. "I wonder what Klink's gonna do about the food."

"I have an idea," said Pepin.

"We'll take anything," said Kinch.

"What if the town pitched in," suggested Pepin. LeBeau and Kinch exchanged uneasy glances. Pepin went on. "Look, Hammelburg is a small town. A lot of people around here don't support the Nazis. There are enough people that care about you prisoners and they don't even know about the operation. They could donate the food. They keep their best for the black market, but I am sure that they will spare some merchandise to feed Stalag 13. Maybe not three meals a day, but one meal is better than none. And the Luftwaffe cannot ignore the fact that a whole prison camp, including their guards, will starve."

"It's not a bad idea," said Kinch. "But if we pull all of this off, Hammelburg will be in our debt forever."

Pepin smiled. "Trust me. When the Allies win, and we are rid of the madmen in charge of Germany, that will be payment enough."

"Thank you," said Kinch. He tried to stifle a yawn.

"Listen," said Pepin. "You and Louis get some sleep. You can go upstairs to me and Franz's old room. I will contact everyone I the Underground and get them up to date. Do not worry too much. Everything will be fine."

"Sure," said Kinch. "Maybe these problems are getting solved, but the main one is still there: where's Colonel Hogan and Carter?"

"We will find them," said Pepin. "You must believe it. Now, go. Get rest. You will never find Papa Bear when your eyes are closed because of weariness."

Kinch got up and looked at LeBeau.

"'E is right, _mon ami_," said LeBeau. "I am about to fall over myself. If we rest, we will be able to think better later. But you 'ave done _magnifique_ so far."

"Thanks," said Kinch. He looked at Pepin. "You'll get us if anything happens, right?"

"Of course," said Pepin. He sat down at the workbench. "I would not want to know what would happen to me if I did not."

Kinch and LeBeau laughed. Then, they bid Pepin good night and left the room. When they were back in the kitchen, they found Analiese clearing the table of their dishes.

"Oops," said Kinch. "Sorry. We didn't mean to leave them."

"Oh, hush," said Analiese, not even looking up. "The beds are ready upstairs. I expect you to sleep until morning."

"But what if something—".

"Naturally, you will be woken up. However, if nothing occurs, you will sleep until morning. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"_Oui, madame_."

"_Gut_. Now, go. _Raus_."

LeBeau and Kinch turned around and headed for the stairs.

"Sounds like Schultz," murmured Kinch. LeBeau chuckled.

"James Kinchloe!"

They both snickered and hurried up the stairs.

* * *

Translations:

(1) Want a cigarette?

(2) Sure.

(3) Hey! What are you doing here?

(4) Sorry. I heard your voices and thought it was someone I knew.

(5) Hold your fire, brothers. These are friends.

(6) You should return home. If we need you, we will call you.

(7) Peter? Wake up, my friend. You have slept too long.

(8) Wait for us.

(9) No. Eat.


	8. Of Oaths and Plans

**Chapter Eight: Of Oaths and Plans**

_Johann followed Colonel Hogan two cars down. This car was just filled with compartments. There were very few people here. Hogan stepped into one of them compartments. Johann followed him and closed the door. He sat across from Hogan. They bent over and put their heads close, so as to not have to talk loudly._

_ "Our man is supposedly in this car, somewhere," said Hogan. "The agent called Danube is with him, acting as an escort. This man thinks he's meeting with some people that will take his information in exchange for a trip to Switzerland. Instead, Danube got rid of the real escort and took his place so that when we arrive, there shouldn't be much confusion."_

_ "What information is it?" asked Johann._

_ "This man apparently travels a good deal," explained Hogan. "He was in France and came across some Underground information there. Apparently, he didn't realize it until he ran across some here, with some old friends. So now, he wants to give it to the authorities but doesn't want to stick around either. That's where we come in."_

_ "Sounds like a good deal," said Johann._

_ "Yeah," said Hogan. "Now we just gotta close it."_

_ "Right," said Johann. "When do we move?"_

_ Hogan looked outside the window, and then at his watch. _

_ "In a few minutes," he answered. "We need to give Newkirk enough time to get settled."_

_ Johann nodded. Then, they both leaned back. Johann tried to relax, but found that his heart would just not slow down. He tried to think of better days, when he was a child, and nothing mattered. He felt that that was just a fairy tale now. He felt like he had never lived that life. It was so far away. _

_ Johann looked at Colonel Hogan. Who had he been before the war? What had he left behind? Johann realized he actually knew very little about Colonel Hogan, even though he had worked with him for about a year now. He realized that he probably would have never known much about Colonel Hogan's past. Still, he felt like he didn't even know the man that well. When he saw Colonel Hogan with his men it made Johann feel like a complete outsider. But sitting here, now, why couldn't he carry a conversation with the man like he had seen other agents doing? What was separating them?_

'You feel bad about killing innocents,' _he thought to himself._

_ But that was stupid reason. He knew that the men of Stalag 13 would be the last to ever not care about innocent people. After all, had they not all been persecuted against? They were the ones in all of the Underground in Germany that really knew what it meant to be thoroughly hated by another group of people. So, it was stupid for Johann to come up with that excuse, and he knew it. Still, he could not help but wonder about Colonel Hogan's view point on this._

_ "Colonel?" asked Johann._

_ Hogan looked at him. "Yes?"_

_ "Do you…this is going to be a random question, but…do you ever think about the innocent people who die, whenever you destroy something?"_

_ "Innocent?" asked Hogan. "Care to clarify?"_

_ Johann was a little taken back, but did not show it._

_ "Well, you know, like that boy in the club car. And the old man that took our tickets. And the crewmen on this train. People who are going to die, but are not wearing any uniform."_

_ Hogan took a moment to answer._

_ "London was bombed every night in 1940," he stated simply. "The Nazis didn't try to target military headquarters or bases. They went over neighborhoods. They went over all sorts of neighborhoods, too. And when there were shelters, they looked for them. One night, they hit a water main, and the subway, where hundreds of people elderly people, children, women, men, everyone and their dogs were sleeping was flooded. Every single one of them died." Hogan paused for a moment. "Of course, that gives us no right to kill that boy or that old man. But we still have to make sure most of the guards on this train don't follow us after we blow the bridge. So, we have to blow the train."_

_ Johann cocked his head. "There must be another way, though."_

_ Hogan shrugged. "Maybe there is. But let me tell you something. Newkirk has the charges. He can place them where he wants. He is going to decide where to stop the train, as well. So, basically, he has the power to say who is going to live and who is going to die."_

_ "But he is from London," exclaimed Johann, surprised at this realization. "You have given the man who would want revenge for his city the power to kill innocent people."_

_ "How do you know?" asked Hogan. "Don't you think that he would be the man that best understood what it's like to lose innocent people?"_

_ Johann calmed a bit. "Maybe so. I had not thought of it that way. Still, you do not know what he will do. What if he does not even know what he will do?"_

_ "I'm not worried," said Hogan. "Because even though I understand what you're talking about, I can't think about it now. Sometimes, late at night, when it's peaceful at camp, I do think about it."_

_ "Do you feel guilty?" asked Johann._

_ Hogan shrugged. "I asked God for forgiveness. What else can I do? Besides, are those people really innocent? Or do they all believe in every word Hitler says? If they saw a Jew, would they spit on them, or greet them as a human being? If that boy knew Newkirk was English, would he have treated him like a dog to 'put him in his place' or would he have served him as well as an honest German?"_

_ Johann narrowed his eyes. "No one is perfect."_

_ "No," agreed Hogan. "No one is perfect. But anyone can do their best."_

_ "What about living to fight another day?" asked Johann. "Three years ago, when I walked into town, I could not help the Jewish man if he fell. That is, unless I wanted to be beaten with him."_

_ Hogan nodded. "Then, I guess, it's what your conscience says when we are dying. When we are standing before God, what will we be able to say we truthfully thought when the worse things were happening in the world? Better yet, what will we be able to say we truthfully thought during the best times of the world? So, I don't really think about it. Not until it is over. Then, when I can quietly come to terms with whatever has taken place, I will ask God for forgiveness, and then move on."_

_ "Move on to where?" asked Johann. "Do you ever change your ways? Or do you just keep committing the same sins?"_

_ "You should be a priest," said Hogan, with a smile. "Well, you know what they say: the same routine just produces the same results. Well, this routine has not failed us yet. I have given the power of choosing who lives and who dies to a man who has had that power in his hands before. Maybe he never did realize it, and maybe he never will. But if he does know it, I believe that he will do what is right."_

_ Hogan looked at his watch, and then looked back up with a smile. _

_ "It's time to go," he said._

_ They both stood, up, and Hogan straightened his jacket. Then, he slid the door open, and they stepped out into the corridor. Johann slid their door shut. Hogan looked back at him and nodded. He nodded back. Hogan led the way down the corridor. They peered into each compartment. When they came to closed doors, Johann remained out of sight, and Hogan would go in, requesting papers. Johann listened for the exchange of the code. Finally, he heard it._

_ "Well now," began Hogan. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?"_

_ "Unless it lands on a hill," replied the other man. _

_ "Where does it roll to?" asked Hogan._

_ "Into the river Danube," answered the agent. _

_ Johann stepped in, and quickly slid the door shut. He turned around, and gasped._

_ Out of instinct, Danube drew his gun. Hogan held a hand up, and then looked at Johann. But Johann was staring past him, looking at the older man seated in the compartment._

_ "What is it?" asked Hogan._

_ Johann did not answer, but just continued to stare, shocked at the other man. Hogan and Danube looked at the older man._

_ "Johann," said the older man. "Is it really you?"_

_ Hogan looked at Johann. "You know him?"_

_ Danube was suspicious. "Are you a traitor?"_

_ "No," said Johann quickly. "I swear to you…I have not deceived you. I am true. But that man…that man is my father."_

_ "Your father," repeated Hogan, shocked. He barely managed to stick with German. He looked at them back and forth._

_ "Who are you?" asked the older man to Hogan. _

_ Hogan scowled at him. "Are you questioning the Gestapo?"_

_ "I am not questioning the Gestapo," replied the man. "I am questioning you, as in your name. Are you the person we are supposed to be meeting?"_

_ Hogan switched to his American English. "I don't know who you thought you were supposed to be meeting, but you're meeting me now."_

_ It was the older man's turn to be shocked. "What…who are you?" He looked at Danube. "Do you know this man?"_

_ "Of course I do," replied Danube. He turned his gun on the older man. "He is a well-known Underground leader."_

_ The older man gawked. Hogan smiled devilishly._

_ "And who are you?" he asked._

_ The man quickly shut his mouth. Johann stepped forward, looking down at him with an extreme disappointment._

_ "He will not talk to you," said Johann. "His name is Geoff Krieger. Unfortunately, I share that surname." Johann looked thoroughly disgusted. "We will let the Engländers loosen his tongue."_

_ Geoff raised his eyebrows._

_ "Son," he said. "You would not hand me over. I thought I told you: I have changed."_

_ "Changed?" asked Johann. "You call this being changed? You are selling Underground secrets to save your life. But do you not realize how many people are going to die when you sell this information?" _

_ "Son," said Geoff, more softly. "I had no plans on selling my information to Nazis. I planned on selling it to the Underground."_

_ "That's not what we heard," said Hogan. He looked at his watch, and then sat down. He kept his gun out though. "Look, we don't have much time. But if you want to get off this train as a free man, still getting out of Germany, then you had better tell me the right things." _

_ "Right," said Geoff. "I was in France, meeting an old friend who was a Captain stationed there. One day, I was in his home alone, because he was working, and I stumbled across some papers in my bedroom drawers. I could not help but look at them, thinking they were military secrets. Instead, I found out that they were actually Underground secrets. My friend, the Captain, was a part of the Underground. However, looking at the files, it seemed that he was a very discreet member, just a small plant, you know. Anyway, I decided to forget about them. I did not want to get involved in any way. Then, a month after I returned, I was in my favorite bar, and I overheard two people talking about something that had to do with the information I had found. I listened, and acquired even more. Well, then, I got the idea that if I found the right people, I could blackmail them to get myself out of Germany. I am tired of being here."_

_ "Blackmail," repeated Johann. "You have not changed too much."_

_ "I would have not really given the information out," said Geoff. "But I gambled that it was important enough to get me out of Germany." He looked at Hogan. "Is it?"_

_ "I don't know what it is," said Hogan. "We were never told. But we'll discuss that later."_

_ Just then, the train began to slow down. Hogan jumped up and went to the window. He opened it up and looked outside. They were now in the woods. He looked down to the front. They were at the bridge._

_ He looked back inside. _

_ "We're going out through the window," he said. "I don't want to cause any confusion amongst the German ranks."_

_ "What about me?" asked Geoff. "Am I leaving a free man?"_

_ "I think so," replied Hogan. "But one wrong move, and you'll be heading to England in chains. Got it?"_

_ "You are crystal clear, Captain," answered Geoff, looking at the Gestapo uniform._

_ "It's Colonel," stated Hogan firmly. He looked over at Danube. "You go out first."_

_ Danube climbed out. Hogan motioned for Geoff to go. Then, Johann. Before he went out, though, Hogan stopped him. _

_ "You dealing with this all right?" asked Hogan._

_ "I've dealt with my father my whole life, Colonel," said Johann quickly and hotly. He sighed. "I am sorry. But, yes, I am fine. You can count on me to do my job."_

_ "Good," said Hogan. He patted Johann's shoulder, and the German climbed out. Hogan looked around once more, and then followed. Once outside, they all looked ahead, to the bridge. Hogan smiled when he saw Carter waving at them._

_ "Hey Colonel! We're all set!"_

()()()()()()

"Hey, Colonel! Colonel Hogan, wake up!"

Hogan rolled over, and looked at Carter, who was beside him. The younger man was shaking him vigorously and whispering loudly.

"What is it, Carter," asked Hogan. "Are you all right? How's your leg?"

"Just a bit sore," said Carter. "But that's not why I woke you up. Someone's coming in. They're opening up—"

He was cut off when the cellar door opened up. This time, it was the door that led into the house. Carter, Johann, and Colonel Hogan looked up from their positions on the floor. At first, they were blinded form the light that came in. They had blown out the oil lamp, in order to save it for when the really did need it. The door was up a few steps, and the light flooded in from upstairs. In the door way, they saw the silhouette of two men. Geoff's smaller frame was recognizable against the larger frame of an unknown man. Once they regained their vision, the three captives saw that Geoff appeared to be uncomfortable. Johann relished in knowing that. The larger man just seemed satisfied, which only got them worried. The two men—the larger one leading—walked down the stairs. Carter unconsciously slid himself beside Hogan. Hogan stood up. He heard a gun cock.

"I would stay where you are if I were you," said the larger man.

"Just stretching," said Hogan.

The larger man chuckled. It grew into a deep-belly laugh that reverberated through the cellar. Hogan glanced down at Carter, and took a step in front of him. Johann stood up as well.

"What do you want," asked Hogan.

"We want all of you," replied the older man. "Unfortunately, we missed some of you last evening."

"Last evening," repeated Johann. "How long have we been down here?"

"Only about four hours," said the man. "It is about one o'clock in the morning."

"And you're awake because…"

"We wanted to check up on our chickens," said the man. "By the way, my name is Captain Arne Fleischer. I am the man that set you up."

"Nice to meet you," said Hogan sarcastically. "Since you know everything about us, I suppose there's no point in introducing myself, is there?"

Fleischer chuckled. "You have a nice sense of humor, Colonel. Maybe we will learn to like one another."

"I highly doubt it," replied Hogan darkly.

"We shall see," said Fleischer. "Anyway, you ask what we want. Well, we do want very high compensation for turning you in. However, I will not turn in only half of the treasure. No, no, no, no…I want you all. You see, I have planned far too long to not be able to get everything I deserve. So, as of right now, my men are hunting out your men. Hopefully, they will be caught by morning."

"I highly doubt that as well," said Hogan. He knew of many places where his men would go. He just hoped they had made it.

"You think they went back to camp, no," asked Fleischer. "Well, if they did, it would not take me long to get them. Because since my men saw all of you out there yesterday, all we have to do is say so, bring you out, and then that would be it."

Hogan just glared at Fleischer.

"But I do not think they went back to that POW camp," said the man. "I do not think they would have made it in time."

"In time for what," asked Hogan.

"In time for the changing of the guards," replied Fleischer. "You see, there has been an escape at Stalag 13. There was a fire. The mess hall was burned to the ground, and afterwards, the Kommandant had a roll call, to make sure every single prisoner was present. He counted and recounted, and looked everywhere. But, he found that five prisoners were missing. Care to wager who those prisoners were?"

"Sorry," said Hogan. "I don't take Reichsmarks."

"That is perfectly okay with me," said Fleischer. "I would not hand German money to an American anyway." He sat down at the table, with the gun still pointed at them. "But let us get back to the point: I do want something specific now. Where would your men go if they could not get back to camp?"

"You should know that," said Hogan. "I thought you knew everything about us."

Fleischer smiled, and pointed his gun down, to Carter. "Would answer the same way if I took out his knee cap, on the other leg?"

Hogan heard Carter gasp. He moved in front of the gun. "How about you take out my knee cap, and you can just listen to me scream."

"I would rather not," said Fleischer. He stood up. "I will go, for now, to let you think all of this over. Geoff here, wanted to explain himself, as well."

Geoff looked at him, surprised, and began to say something in defense.

"I do not want to hear any words from you,_ schwein_," said Fleischer as he walked past. He quickly walked up the stairs. "You were a traitor from the beginning, whichever way you looked at it."

Then, he slammed the door shut, putting them all in darkness again. Johann quickly lit the oil lamp. Then, he looked at his father for a long moment.

"Son…" began Geoff.

But he never finished because Johann slammed him against the shelves, with his hands around his father's throat. Geoff began to gasp in surprise and tried to get himself out of his son's grasp. But he was no match for his son, who was in his prime. Johann just continued to squeeze, not thinking anything of his actions.

Hogan watched for a moment or two, debating on when he should make Johann get off. Personally, at that moment, he wanted Geoff gone too. But he knew that that was not an option if they wanted to get out of here.

"Colonel," said Carter questioningly.

"I'm going," grumbled Hogan.

He walked over to Johann, and began to pry the younger man away.

"C'mon, Johann," he said. He pulled on Johann's shoulders. Then, he worked on prying away each individual finger. "Let him go. You can't kill him. We might need him later on."

"How can we use him" asked Johann, calming a little, but still not letting go. "He might turn on us."

Geoff was now about to pass out and Hogan started to become more agitated. So, he drew back a fist and frogged Johann right in the bicep. It shocked Johann enough to slacken his grip. Hogan pulled him away at that moment. Geoff slid to the ground, gasping for air. Johann just watched him, fuming.

"I do not believe you Father," he said in rapid German. "You are no one. You cannot be trusted. Every time, you come up with something new. And because I love you, I want to believe you. So I give you a second chance. You are never any different, though. But this has crossed the line. You have gotten men killed. Good men! This is no longer about you getting ahead, and earning a few more bills, or gaining some upper class friends. This is about lives…more lives than you know. If these men…Colonel Hogan and Carter and Kinch and LeBeau and Newkirk….and everyone that they work with are caught, people will begin to disappear left and right. This is a hole you have dug that will be filled up with many bodies. So, if by some miracle there is a next time…I will not trust you. I can never trust you again. In fact, Father, I cannot remember ever being able to trust you."

Geoff looked up. He was gasping with tears.

"I know…I know…oh God kill me now…my son, please…please forgive me…"

"No!"

"Johann," said Hogan softly. "Please, calm down."

"No," cried Johan again. "How can I be calm when he is begging for my forgiveness?"

Hogan thought back to their conversation earlier that day.

"How can God possibly remain calm when I don't change my ways, and I still ask for forgiveness every day?"

Johann stopped breathing suddenly, and it was as if the world stopped for him. Tears were built up in his eyes, as he looked down at his father.

"What are we going to do," asked Johann, hopelessly. "We have nothing."

"We have each other," piped up Carter from his spot. "And I still have both of my knee caps."

Hogan rolled his eyes, and Johann briefly chuckled. Then, they heard Geoff laughing through his tears, as if he could not decide what to do.

"My dear boy…my dear boy…where did you learn to speak like that…oh God, kill me now…forgive me…"

"He forgives you," said Johann, calmly, but still rather annoyingly. Geoff looked up. "And he cannot kill you now, because he needs you to free your son."

"How will that be possible," asked Geoff.

"We'll come up with something," said Hogan. "But you must be ready, for anything." He walked over to Geoff and held out his hand. Geoff looked at a long moment, and then took it. Hogan pulled him up from the floor.

"I'm about to do something very stupid," said Hogan. "But, I've got to take my chances. I need your word that when something does happen, you'll cover for us. You'll be on our side. You cannot be anywhere else. If you are, you'll get killed. Understand?"

Geoff nodded hard. "I promise, whatever happens, I will help however I can."

"Is that a promise you mean, Father," asked Johann. "What can you promise on so that I know you mean it?"

Geoff took a moment to think.

"I swear on my love for your mother," he said.

Hogan and Carter looked at Johann. The German nodded. "That is good enough for me."

"Then it's good enough for me," said Hogan. He looked at Geoff sternly. "Now, get out, and try to keep that laughing hyena out of here too."

"Of course," said Geoff, shooting a look at Carter. "I will do what I can." He started walking upstairs.

"Oh yeah," said Hogan. "And would you mind asking them if could have some food, down here. Nothing fancy of course."

"I will see what I can do," said Geoff with a smile. "_Guten nacht_."

He left the cellar.

Hogan looked at Johann. "Well?"

"There is no other person, even himself, that he loves more than my mother," explained Johann. "He loves her even now, when she is dead. I just wish he realized that he is still hurting her with what he does."

"If you trust him," said Hogan. "Then I will. You, of all people, would know."

"Right," said Johann. He was beginning to piece together parts of the conversation on the train. "You are a wise man, Colonel Hogan."

"I try," replied Hogan. "But now, I just have to be wise enough to get us out of here."

"That would be nice," said Carter.

Hogan glared at him briefly. "How's your knee."

"Sore as heck, sir," replied Carter. "Do you think…how long can that bullet stay in there, sir?"

"I have no idea," replied Hogan. "But I know it can't stay in there forever."

"Then how do we get it out," asked Carter uneasily. He looked at Hogan fearfully.

"We might have to perform our own little surgery," said Johann.

Carter paled visibly. "That'll hurt!"

"Yes, it will," said Hogan. "But it might also save your life."

Carter seemed to be deciding which one was best. Hogan rolled his eyes.

"Don't worry," said Hogan, putting a hand no Carter's shoulder. "We don't have to do it now. But keep it covered. You'll die of infection before you die of the bullet."

"Yes, sir," said Carter. He yawned. "I'm going back to bed."

Hogan watched him lie back down, and pull the blanket over him. Hogan sat down at the table, and Johann joined him.

"Have any ideas, sir," asked Johann.

"I think I have one," said Hogan. He fingered the matches. "I wonder how fast an old cellar like this would burn down."

Johann looked at Hogan and smiled.

"It should not take long," he said. "Of course, with a little help."

"Oo, oo, oo," said Carter. "I wanna do it."

Hogan rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.

"Carter, go to sleep," he said. "Trust me: we don't need a pyromaniac for everything we do around here."

"Yes, sir."


	9. How It Is

**Chapter Nine: How It Is**

_ Newkirk was standing by the conductor, with a pistol placed against the terrified man's head. Behind the conductor were two young men, who had been hauling coal into the train's engine. Newkirk had bound and gagged the two younger men, but still required the conductor's services. _

_ The hijacking had been swift. Newkirk had suddenly appeared in front of the conductor, from above, and ordered the train to be stopped right off the bridge. The conductor did just that at gunpoint. At first, Newkirk had been worried about the two younger men, but they apparently cared for the conductor's life, and did not make a move. Once the train was stopped, Kinch, Carter and LeBeau appeared from the brush. LeBeau and Kinch gagged and bound the two younger men while Newkirk kept the conductor still. Then, they left to join Colonel Hogan, Danube, Johan, and their captive._

_ "Good work, Newkirk," called Colonel Hogan from off the track. But he kept it in German. He did not want anyone knowing they were of Allied descent. The more they thought they were normal partisans, the less people would think of it. He looked at his men, and saw that they understood as well. _

_ "Not bad yourself," Newkirk called back with a sly grin. "Who's the new man?" He was looking at Geoff suspiciously._

_ "It's a long story," answered Johann. Newkirk's eyebrows rose; it was not a sufficient answer for him._

_ "He's okay," said Hogan to Newkirk. But Newkirk saw that his commanding officer was not completely at ease, so Newkirk just took the words half-heartedly, knowing that Colonel Hogan was warning him not to do or say anything just yet._

_ Hogan looked at Carter. "The charges ready?"_

_ "Yes, sir," said Carter. "They'll be goin' off in about—". He looked at his watch. "—about five minutes."_

_ "Good," said Hogan. "Newkirk?"_

_ "They'll go off in a few," reported Newkirk. "I'll do that after you all get across and I'm through with these guys." He looked at the conductor and the two younger men. All three of them looked back at him with wide eyes; fearfully._

_ "Right," said Hogan. He looked at Johann. "Take your father down to the river from here. We'll cross and make sure that side is clear." Johann nodded and took his father by the arm and escorted him away from the train and into the woods. Danube followed behind, but was watching from a distance. Hogan watched them for a moment and then looked to Newkirk. "Newkirk, when you're done, join Johann down there. And keep an eye on things."_

_ "I know exactly what you men, sir," said Newkirk with a serious nod. "We'll meet up down the river?"_

_ "Yeah," said Hogan. "When you're done, signal us, and we'll get out. We can watch from a distance."_

_ "Sounds like a plan," said Carter. "Of course, I always like to watch my explosions up close."_

_They all rolled their eyes. _

_ "Andrew," said Newkirk. "If you want to stand on the bridge and watch your fireworks go, be me guest."_

_ Carter smiled sheepishly._

_ "C'mon," said Hogan. "Let's get across before we do get a close up of the fireworks."_

_ He started walking across the bridge, and the others followed. LeBeau paused for a moment and looked at the three captives._

_ "What are you going to do with them," he asked Newkirk._

_ Newkirk shrugged. "I dunno. I think I'll just leave them."_

_ The conductor swallowed nervously. LeBeau and Newkirk took a step back, still facing the conductor. _

_"You need help with that guy," asked LeBeau, pointing to the conductor._

_ "No," answered Newkirk. "He's too scared for these young lads to do anything. But I'll tell them I'm not going to kill them. That'll keep them still."_

_ LeBeau smiled, and clapped Newkirk on the back. "We will be waiting for you."_

_ "Right," said Newkirk. "Now get along. I don't want you to be caught by Carter's bombs."_

_ LeBeau smiled and took off across the bridge. Newkirk turned his attention back to the conductor._

_ "Get over there," he ordered, motioning for the conductor to move over beside the two younger men. The conductor obediently did. Then, Newkirk pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket. "Put your right hand against his left." The conductor slid closer to the younger man beside him, and put his free right hand beside the man's bound left one. With one hand holding his gun, he used the other to clap the cuffs down around each man's hand. Then, as he was about to stand up, a voice from behind him made him freeze._

_ "Put your hands up, and turn around," it said. Newkirk went wide-eyed. He turned around slowly, with his hands raised above him. Behind him, a SS Captain and two soldiers were standing right outside the train, with their weapons on him. "Drop your gun."_

_ Newkirk let his gun slip from his hands, and fall to the ground. _

_ "Move over here," ordered the Captain. _

_ Newkirk slowly moved towards him. When he was close enough, the Captain yanked him off the train by his arm, and tripped him as he went down. He fell onto the gravel around the tracks face first. Immediately the other two soldiers pulled his hands behind his back and yanked him up. They held him in place for the Captain to look at him. Without warning, the Captain struck him over the head with his pistol. Newkirk barely managed to stay on his feet. The Captain spat on his face._

_ "The mere sight of traitors such as yourself makes me sick," he said._

_ Newkirk looked up and just glared. The Captain turned back to the captives on board. He walked up into the engine room and began to unbind their feet. When he was through, he went to their hands but remembered that he did not have the keys to the cuffs. He turned around to get them from the traitor when suddenly a crack split the air, and he was struck in the chest by a bullet._

_ The two soldiers began to spin around with Newkirk, but both were shot before they could react any further. Newkirk watched them fall to the ground on either side of them. He looked into the woods. Danube stepped out from behind a tree. Both of them smiled in relief. Then, Danube's eyes went wide, and he started to raise his gun. Newkirk spun around, simultaneously hitting the deck. He heard one shot. Slowly, he raised his head. He saw Danube fall back against a tree and then slump down to the ground. Newkirk looked back fearfully. The conductor and the man he was cuffed to were standing on the threshold. The conductor was holding the Captain's gun in his hand, aimed at Newkirk. Newkirk raised his hands above his head._

_ "Stop the train from blowing up," ordered the conductor._

_ "I can't," replied Newkirk earnestly. "The charges are already set."_

_ "You murderer," cried the other man in outrage. "There are innocent people on this train. I could care less if you were a traitor if you just stopped civilians from being killed."_

_ "They won't be killed," said Newkirk. "I promise. The charges, they are only set on the cargo cars."_

_ "How do we know you aren't lying," asked the conductor with a snarl. "You're a traitor. You lie for a living!"_

_ "I promise," cried Newkirk. "Really, no one would have died if these idiots hadn't shown up."_

_ They all looked at the three soldiers._

_ "They were just doing their job," shouted the younger man. "They're soldiers."_

_ "I know," said Newkirk anxiously. "I know." _You have no idea how well I know_, thought Newkirk._

_ Just then, they were all shaken off their feet as the cargo cars exploded in unison. Newkirk had been expecting it, so as soon as he hit the ground, he got back up and began to run. But that was where he made his crucial mistake. He had never taken the second to think about how much time had taken place since the others had crossed the bridge. He had also forgotten that Colonel Hogan had told him to go down to the river with Johann and Geoff. So, in his mad dash, he began to run across the wired bridge._

_The bridge was a long straight shot. Newkirk had never run so fast in his life, and all he was running from was a bullet. Had he known that he only had thirty seconds to get across the bridge, he might have run even faster. Still, he could not run faster than a bullet. About halfway, he felt a searing pain in his lower back and abdomen as a bullet tore into him and went right through. He stumbled forward, tripping over the cross rail. He hit the metal of the bridge hard, and rolled sideways, right off the bridge. He just managed to grab hold of the track with his right hand, but cried out when all of his body weight jerked on his shoulder. Pulling back up with another cry, he garbed the track with his other hand, and brought his head up. He froze when he saw what lie centimeters from his face: a red wire that was running up and down the bridge._

_ That was when he remembered. Then, he could hear someone shouting, just barely over the falls he was dangly over. He looked down at the falls, and then back at the wire. It would be a gamble. And usually, he was only a gambling man when he held most of the cards. But he didn't have much of a choice. So, he let go._

_ A half second later, the bridge exploded. Newkirk never even knew he hit the water._

()()()()()()

Karl stepped out from the guest bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. Pepin was sprawled out across the sofa, sound asleep. Karl calmly walked over to his favorite armchair beside the fireplace. He pulled out his pipe, and lit it. Then, he took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, thinking.

He had a few ideas about what had happened to Peter. He was sure it had something to do with explosives, because of his internal bleeding in the head. Because of the amount of pressure, Karl also concluded that he must have been very close to the explosives, which would explain the damage to his body. He must have been thrown hard against something. Then, he had found the bullet holes. This had been a surprise, because he knew that if James and Louis had known, they would have mentioned it right away. Ironically, the bullet wound was not the most severe. It had been too far on the side, missing any important organs. It had been a miracle.

While contemplating the luck of the men at Stalag 13, Analiese entered the room from upstairs. She saw her husband sitting in the room quietly. She walked over and sat on the arm of the sofa, beside Pepin's feet. She cocked her head slightly in quiet question.

"He is alive, and fighting," was all Karl said. "I will not say anymore until I can speak with James and Louis."

"Is he that bad," asked Analiese softly.

Karl sighed, and took another deep breath. He let it out again, so that the smoke clouded before his face. It hid his uncertainty momentarily.

"I cannot say that he will live," said Karl. "That would be giving false hope. And I cannot that he will die, because that would be premature." He looked at the fire. "But the latter is what I believe may come to be." He looked back at Analiese. Her eyes were sad, but knowledgeable. She was accepting what he had said.

"Should I get James and Louis," asked Pepin. They looked at him, momentarily surprised that he was awake. Karl nodded.

"Please," said Karl. "They should know now."

Pepin got up and started to walk to the stairs. But Analiese grabbed his arm, and looked at Karl.

"They should sleep," argued Analiese. "They are exhausted."

"Analiese," said Karl firmly, but softly. "Pepin needs to go wake them up. They would want to be with Peter. He may not even make it to the morning."

Analiese nodded and let go of Pepin's arm. Pepin hurried upstairs quietly.

"And if he dies," asked Analiese.

Karl saw unshed tears in her eyes. Although Analiese was a strong woman, who rarely showed emotion, when it came down to the fact that one she loved may die, she was weak. She loved so many, and this war had taken many away from her already. When she had first learned about the boys at Stalag 13, she had always wanted to meet them. Then, one winter evening, all five of them had appeared on their doorstep, to take cover from the snowstorm that had hit while they were out on a mission. Frozen and sleepy, Analiese had felt so sorry for them. For them, well, all they could say was that they had never been taken cared for so well since they had been in Germany. Of course, they had not been many places that were willing to accommodate them.

In the second year of their friendship with the men from Stalag 13, the Bachmeier's regarded all of them as family. Analiese now regarded them as sons. She had a special place for each of them in her heart. Now, with at death's door and two others possibly dead, it was as if her family was being torn apart too suddenly. She was a veteran of the Great War days, and knew a lot about that. But until now, she had considered herself lucky in having none of her family taken away from her.

"If he dies," said Karl. "We will just have another problem on our hands. We won't just have a dead man in our house. We will have a dead POW and a dead saboteur."

"You talk of him as if he were not somebody you knew so well," stated Analiese.

"I must," said Karl. "I have my family to care for. If he was found here, and someone recognized him, the pieces would be put together. There would be very little we could do if someone came to the conclusion about who he really was and why he was wounded. Not to mention, there would be nowhere for us to run. If someone knew all that, then they would know about the operation. That would be that." He sighed. "Not to mention, it appears that someone already may know about the operation and is just waiting for the right moment. They knew about whatever mission the boys were on. That is why they are in this mess."

"But we do not know for sure," said Analiese.

"No," said Karl. "You are right. And I don't know enough about what is going on to think any further. When James and Louis get here, we're figuring all of this out."

Just then, Kinch and LeBeau came hurrying down the stairs after Pepin. They came in the living room, and looked from Karl, to Analiese, to the guest bedroom. When no one spoke for a moment, LeBeau walked over the guest bedroom door, and looked in; assuring himself that Newkirk was still alive.

"Come sit," said Karl, waving them over to the sofa.

Kinch and LeBeau sat down. Pepin stood by his mother. They all looked at Karl intently.

"I already told Analiese and Pepin this," he said, lookin at Kinch and LeBeau. "But there is no way to tell right now if Peter will live or not. I also told Analiese and Pepin that there is a good chance he will not live. You have to be prepared for that."

Kinch and LeBeau just nodded, but their expressions blank.

_Please, Pierre, do not go. We need you. I need you. We came here together, and always said we'd be there for each other. Don't go. _LeBeau prayed with all his heart.

_Good Lord, Newkirk. If you go, we won't know what to do. It'll kill Carter and LeBeau. I don't know what the Colonel would do. But he'll blame himself. I know that. Somehow, he'll blame himself_. Kinch stared at Karl, while just thinking about everything that had gone wrong.

"He had some broken bones," continued Karl. "The most severe is his broken back. At the least, I could say it is just a severe stress fracture, or hairline fracture. But we won't know exactly unless he wakes up. The next one that I would be worried about are his ribs. He has two broken ribs on his left side. They are hampering his breathing. Fortunately, it appears that nothing has punctured the lungs. It just looks like they have pressed against his lung. Also, his left wrist his broken, bit that will easily be repaired. Lastly, his right shoulder was out of place, but I put it back, and it is fine now." Kinch and LeBeau looked overwhelmed. "As for the rest of him, he is badly bruised almost everywhere. He will be sore for an awfully long time. Now, this is what the main problem is: he is in a coma."

"What?"

LeBeau jumped up. Kinch was just staring at Karl with the same expressionless face.

"I am guessing he was hurt in some explosion," said Karl.

"What do you mean 'e is in a coma," asked LeBeau, as if Karl had never said anything else.

"Yes," answered Kinch, ignoring LeBeau. "He was on the bridge when it exploded."

"What on earth happened out there," asked Pepin.

"Will you please tell me what you mean about 'im being in a coma," asked LeBeau anxiously.

"Hold it," said Analiese. Everyone looked at her. "One explanation at a time. We are all anxious to know what happened. Karl, will you please answer Louis?"

"Right," said Karl. Kinch pulled LeBeau back down onto the couch. "Now, he hit his head badly against something, and combined with the explosion, he probably had some kind of brain damage done. Also, his body has been overwhelmed. It has shut itself down for now, so that it can repair. The problem is; it was already put down with the explosion. He may or may not wake up. If he wakes up, I have no idea what his condition would be. Also, he could continue to live, but in a coma."

"An invalid," murmured Kinch, mostly to himself.

LeBeau buried his face in his hands for a moment. When he looked back up they saw that he was holding back tears.

"What else can happen," he asked.

"He could wake up," said Karl. "He could wake up, which would give him a better chance of survival, but not much. I would say, at this point, that the most we can hope for is that he will wake up before he dies. So that…"

"We could say good-bye," asked LeBeau.

"_Ja_," said Karl. "I am sorry. I hate to be the bringer of bad news." They all looked at him, because of the change in his voice. He suddenly appeared so much older, like a large burden was on top of him, and was taking away his years quicker.

"No," said Kinch. "Thank you. I'm glad I know."

LeBeau sniffed. "_Oui, monsieur._ I am too. I am glad I know, for it would 'ave been 'arder if 'e died unexpectedly."

Karl nodded. "Now, you must tell us about what happened at the bridge."

"Sure," said Kinch. He rubbed his eyes and sat back against the sofa. Then, he proceeded to tell them of what happened since the train arrived at the bridge, and what their mission had been. He told them what had happened to Newkirk, and then how they had found them. Lastly, he told them of Colonel Hogan, Carter, and Johann being captured. Then, he told them about when Franz and Pepin found them. LeBeau filled in at points, when Kinch stumbled on his words, or momentarily forgot something. In all, it took about ten minutes.

"Well," said Pepin, when they were finished. "As much bad that has happened, I would also that you are surrounded with luck."

"I don't know," said Kinch. "It seemed today that any luck we had abandoned us."

"May I go sit with Pierre," asked LeBeau.

"Of course," said Karl.

Analiese stood up. "I will make some coffee. Do you want any James?"

"Yes, ma'am, thank you," answered Kinch.

Analiese left the room. Pepin plopped down on the sofa, and stared into the fire. Karl continued to smoke his pipe thoughtfully. Kinch lay back against the sofa, and closed his eyes. A wave of exhaustion suddenly passed over him. Then, his eyes snapped open when he heard the side door being thrown open.

Franz leaned into the kitchen and whispered urgently: "There is a patrol coming!"


	10. Connections Everywhere

**Chapter Ten: C****onnections**** E****verywhere**

_Johann heard the shots, and looked around him. Danube was nowhere to be seen. He looked at his father._

_ "Not very resourceful friends, eh," he said._

_ "Shut up," said Johann with irritation. He pulled out his own gun and then started walking back up the hill to the tracks. He pulled his father along._

_ "Hey," exclaimed Geoff. "What do you think you are doing? If there's shooting up there, shouldn't we be going the other way?"_

_ "They might need my help," said Johann. "Now come on, or I'll just shoot you in the knee cap to make sure you don't go anywhere."_

_ Geoff followed his son quickly. _

_ The shooting paused, and then there was one more shot. Johann crept up the last few yards until he could see over the ridge to the tracks. He saw Danube's body lying on the edge of the woods. He saw Newkirk standing beside the bodies of two soldiers, with his hands up. He saw the conductor with the gun, and the body of the Captain lying inside the train. _

_ Mein Gott, what happened, he thought. He looked at his father. Geoff was wide-eyed at the scene. He looked at Johann._

_ "Like I said, not very resourceful friends," he whispered._

_ Johann wanted to slap him. _You have no idea how resourceful they are.

_ "Stay here," whispered Johann furtively. Geoff nodded and then watched as Johann crept up some more so that he was behind a tree. He slowly stood up, and peeked around the tree. Newkirk was talking to them, trying to get them to understand something about the train. How about the fact that it's about to blow, Johann mentally joked with himself. And if you guys don't get off it, you'll be dead._

_ Just then, the earth was shaken with the explosion of the train. It took even Johann by surprise, and he instinctively shrank behind the tree. Then, he looked back. Through the cloud of smoke and dust, he saw Newkirk jump up and start running across the bridge. He saw the conductor and the two other men stumbling out of the engine, which had not been blown. Momentarily surprised to see them alive, Johann thought that something must have gone wrong with the explosives. He looked back at the train, and smiled. The cargo cars were demolished, but the passenger cars were in perfect shape, if not rattled slightly. The first passenger car appeared to be beat up some, but there was no doubt in Johann's mind that the passengers on board the train were alive. _

_ Johann's smile was wiped off his face when he heard more gunshots. He looked back to the conductor and saw that the man was shooting at Newkirk. Johann cursed and began firing at them. He hit the conductor, and the gun was then forgotten about when the two younger men became preoccupied with taking care of the older man. Johann shot some warning shots at their feet, and they all scrambled away. Then, Johann started running towards the bridge. _

_ At first, he saw no one. Then, he noticed that Newkirk was hanging off the side of the bridge. Johann forgot about any explosives and began to run onto the bridge. He stopped, though, when he saw Newkirk let go. _

_ Then, the world exploded. _

_ Johann was thrown back by the force of the explosion. His back hit the engine and he cried out. Debris followed him and he threw his arms over his head. He lay there for a long moment, watching the smoke drift away._

_ When it was finally gone, Geoff was suddenly at his side. Geoff helped Johann up, and started dusting him off. But Johann's gaze was transfixed on the bridge…or where the bridge had been. Only twisted metal on either side of the river was left. Stepping to the edge, he looked down and saw debris going down the falls quickly. The only sound was the roar of the waterfall. Geoff put a hand on his shoulder._

_ "Come," said the older man. "We should go down to the river and meet your other friends."_

_ But Johann was stuck there._

_ "He didn't blow the whole train," he whispered. _

_ Geoff had no idea what he was talking about._

_ "That's good," he said, and tried to pull his son away. "He didn't steal away any more lives than he had to."_

_ "I know it's good," said Johann. "But I was so convinced…" _

_ "What," asked Geoff. _

_ "Never mind," said Johann. "It's too bad you never met him."_

_ "Who," asked Geoff. _

_But Johann just shook his head and didn't answer. "Come on." He__ walked brusquely by Geoff and back into the woods. Geoff looked at the gaping hole and the river again, and then followed his son._

()()()()()()

_ Hogan walked off the bridge, and then looked back as LeBeau jogged across. He clapped the Frenchman on the back as he stepped off and then looked at the others. _

_ "Okay, as soon as that train blows we'll head down to the river," he said._

_ The others nodded. Then, Carter's eyes went wide and he pointed across the bridge. "Look!" _

_ Hogan spun around, and immediately was alarmed to see three soldiers walking up to the train. The leader pointed his gun to the inside of the engine and they heard him ordering someone outside. They all knew it was Newkirk._

_ "Quick," said Hogan. "Get into the woods."_

_ It would do Newkirk no good if they were seen. They all concealed themselves in the shrubbery beside the tracks. They watched as Newkirk was pulled out of the train and then punched in the face. Kinch gripped LeBeau's arm to keep the Frenchman down. LeBeau cursed angrily at the SS officer. They saw the SS soldier go into the train and then there were shots fired, and suddenly Newkirk was free._

_ "It must've been Danube or Johann," said Kinch._

_ Hogan nodded, and started standing up. Suddenly, Newkirk threw himself on the ground and there was another shot. Everyone froze. They watched as Newkirk slowly stood up, with his hands over his head. They saw him talking with people inside the train. Someone shouted at Newkirk, and Newkirk replied, almost pleading like. Then, the train exploded and they saw Newkirk fall to the ground. _

_ They all ran out from the brush and watched as Newkirk scrambled up and start running across the bridge. Hogan became immediately alarmed._

_ "No," he cried. "Go back! Go back!"_

_ "What," yelled LeBeau. "Are you crazy? They are trying to kill 'im!"_

_ He started to run onto the bridge, but Kinch grabbed his arm. "The explosives! He forgot the bridge was gonna blow!"_

_ LeBeau screamed in panic. "Pierre! Get out of there!"_

_ "No!" yelled Carter as they watched, horrified as Newkirk was hit in the back and then rolled off the bridge. _

_ Hogan grabbed Carter's arms and began pulling him away from the bridge. _

_ "Kinch, get LeBeau out of here," he yelled._

_ Hogan wanted just as bad to help Newkirk, but he knew that he and the others would be just as dead. He couldn't believe it. This was it. Carter was screaming as he struggled to get away from Hogan, and LeBeau was cursing in French at Kinch. They all froze and went silent when Newkirk let go of the bridge. Then, they were all thrown to the ground when the bridge exploded. _

_ Hogan couldn't hear anything. He got up, leaving Carter behind. He had lost all reserve. He ran to the river and came to a skidding halt on the edge of the twisted metal._

_ "Peter," he yelled. _

_ He didn't even know why he was yelling. Newkirk was gone. He just stared down at the river, watching the debris float away. There was no sign of Newkirk, and he knew there shouldn't be. He felt Kinch, LeBeau, and Carter run up beside him. He looked and saw Carter just crying as he looked down at the river, and LeBeau was on his knees, just staring. Kinch was looking across the other side, watching Johann. _

_ Hogan couldn't hear anything for a long time. He couldn't hear the river, or his men's sobs, or Kinch telling him they had to go. He felt Kinch's hand on his shoulder and knew enough about what it meant. So, he started walking away and down to the river. Kinch watched him go for a moment and then got Carter and LeBeau on their feet. He pushed them forward, and they followed Colonel Hogan down to the river. _

_ Kinch looked back at the falls. _Good-bye, Newkirk…Peter. I don't think I'll ever meet another man like you.

()()()()()()

_ There was nothing. _

_ It was not dark. It was not light. There was nothing to see. _

_ There was no feeling. He could not feel. If he had wanted to move, he could not. He was just aware of himself being in the unfamiliar place._

_ He was just aware of things, though. He was not thinking. He was just aware. _

_ He could not be sure if he was alive or not, because nothing meant anything to him. _

_ For all he knew, he may have been there for years or a few seconds, and he would have never known the difference. _

_ Then, he was thinking again._

_ He was remembering something. Something bright. There was a flash of warmth against his face. Then, he couldn't remember anything. He lay there for some timeless more. Then, he kind of remembered something else. _

_ It came back to him. He was lying on his back, but felt like he was moving. He was cold. All he could see was a blue sky, and some clouds, and the tops of trees hovering over him. He was numb, too. His shoulder nudged something lightly, and he was no longer moving. He turned his head ever so slightly, in a daze._

_ Suddenly, he felt like there was a weight on him. He was so tired. He did not ache, though. He was cold, and his limbs and torso were like lead. So heavy._

_ He was compelled to move. He saw more trees, and knew he was in a forest. He rolled over, grabbing some rocks with his numb fingers. He pulled himself up…heavy…tired. When he was half in and out of the water, he lay there for a moment, his face lying on the cool mud. Then, he pushed himself up, and managed to stand up. He took a few steps, and collapsed onto the forest floor. Not bothering to stand up again, he dragged himself away from the river._

_ He wanted to go back to sleep. He was so tired. But something made him go on. He felt like he was looking for something. What, he did not know. _

_ He collapsed again, and lay there for some time. He noticed that it had gotten darker out. The world was blue and gray. _

_ He moved again, and climbed over a fallen trunk. When he unceremoniously dropped to the other side, he found himself looking at a nice welcoming place underneath a bush which grew next to a tall oak. _

_ He felt a deep satisfaction and knew that this was what he had been looking for. He crawled over and curled up beneath the bush. His eyes remained open for a few seconds more. He briefly heard something._

_ "André. What are you doing?"_

_ "Andrew," he murmured to himself. He didn't understand why he had made the connection._

_ Then, he was in the place again. That unfamiliar place where he felt nothing. No sense was of his was working. But he was aware of something more this time. That word meant something. Andrew. André meant something too. It was a connection to another word. Another word he could not quite place. He thought. But it was so hard to think._

_ He felt again._

_ He felt tired and heavy again. _

_ He wanted sleep. _

_ Then, he was just lying there. Whether or not he had closed his eyes or had even opened them never crossed his mind. He was just aware of himself being there. And he clung to that word: Andrew._

_ Andrew…_

()()()()()()

"There is a patrol coming!"

Everyone jumped up. LeBeau came from the guest room.

"You two can't be seen," said Franz. "You can go down to the cellar. Pepin, you take them there and secure everything."

"Right," said Pepin.

"What about Newkirk," asked Kinch.

Franz cursed, and looked at his father.

"We can't move him," said Karl. He thought for a moment. "Pepin, stay inside the cellar with James and Louis. Peter will be you, Pepin. Analiese, go and sit with Peter." Analiese hurried into the guest bedroom. "Franz, go down with your brother and make sure everything is secure. And put your weapon up as well."

"Yes, sir," said Franz.

Neither LeBeau nor Kinch was happy with leaving a vulnerable Newkirk upstairs without either of them. LeBeau looked inside the guest bedroom and then at Kinch. Kinch put a hand on LeBeau's shoulder.

"C'mon. He'll be fine."

LeBeau just nodded. Wordlessly he followed Kinch and the brothers into the kitchen and down into the cellar. Fortunately, there was not much light in the house, so outsiders could not see the flurry of movement that was taking place. Karl walked up to a window in the front room, and looked out. An SS patrol was walking in two rows down either side of his long driveway, heading for the house. He watched until Franz came to join him

"Go upstairs," he told his son. "Get into your bed and act like you have been sleeping. Try to get rid of any sign that there was a person in Pepin's bed."

"Yes, sir," said Franz.

He barreled up the stairs. Karl looked out to the patrol once more and then went back to the living room. He sat down in his armchair again, and continued to smoke his pipe, to calm his nerves. In the guest bedroom, Analiese was on the bed leaning against the headboard. She waited with growing impatience, and breathed deeply to remain calm. The house was quiet.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

Analiese jumped at the sound of a fist striking the front door. Karl slowly got up from his chair, placing his pipe on the mantle. He began to walk to the front door.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"By the order of the SS, you must open your door or we will break entry!"

Karl kept his irritation of the SS off his face as he walked into the foyer and unlocked the front door. Opening it, he found an SS Lieutenant and five enlisted soldiers on his doorstep.

"What I can do for you," asked Karl civilly.

"We need to search your house," demanded the Lieutenant.

Karl noticed that the rest of the patrol had branched out across his property, searching the grounds for anything.

"Looking for someone," asked Karl.

"Saboteurs," answered the Lieutenant promptly. "We are not accusing you of anything, but we must search your home."

Karl stepped aside. "Of course. An innocent man will not worry about that."

The Lieutenant smiled. "You should not."

He ordered two to stay outside the door, and the other three to come inside with him. They stepped inside the house, their boots making a hollow sound on the wooden floors. Karl shut the door behind them. The Lieutenant ordered two men upstairs and the third to search the ground level. Karl watched as the third soldier walked into the kitchen. Karl followed the Lieutenant into the living room.

"You are up awfully early in the morning, Herr…"

"Bachmeier," said Karl.

"Yes, Herr Bachmeier," said the Lieutenant. "You are up awfully early."

"My youngest son was horribly wounded in a sabotage attack this afternoon," explained Karl. "I am a doctor. My oldest son brought him home, and I took care of him. I have been up most of the night with my wife, watching over him."

"Where is he," asked the Lieutenant.

Karl pointed to the guest bedroom. "There."

He walked with the Lieutenant into the room. Analiese looked up and watched the Lieutenant carefully as he walked to the bed. He looked down at Newkirk. The Englishman's shirt was off, revealing the array of bruises all over his body. A bandage was wrapped around his head, now stained with blood. The sheets were pulled up to cover the bullet wound.

Then, there was a scuffle and they all looked to the doorway. Franz was pushed through by two of the soldiers. He appeared disheveled and confused.

"Father," he asked.

"We found him upstairs, Lieutenant," informed one soldier.

The Lieutenant looked to Karl for an answer.

"This is my elder son," explained Karl. "He brought Pepin back from the train."

"You were on the train as well," asked the Lieutenant.

"Yes," answered Franz.

"But you appear well," observed the Lieutenant as he looked Franz up and down. "Were you not sitting with your brother?"

"Yes, I was," answered Franz. "But I had gotten up and left our car to go buy something from the club car. That was when the explosion took place. Unfortunately, we were sitting in the passenger car beside the first cargo car. We shall not do that again."

He smiled weakly.

"No," said the Lieutenant. "I expect you won't."

The third soldier came in.

"There is no one else in the house," he reported.

"Very good," said the Lieutenant. He looked at Karl and clicked his heel with a slight bow. "Thank you for your patience Herr Bachmeier." He turned to Analiese and gave her a slight nod with a warm smile. "And thank you as well Frau Bachmeier. I hope your son recovers well."

"Thank you," replied Analiese with a grateful smile.

"Let us go," said the Lieutenant.

He and the soldiers left the room. Karl followed them out and opened the door for them.

"I hope the rest of your search goes well," said Karl. "Saboteurs who harm and kill innocents are the worst."

"They are traitors," said the Lieutenant. "It is one thing to be in the war, but when you betray your fellow countrymen who are fighting for your country, it is disgusting."

"I could not agree more, Lieutenant," said Karl.

The Lieutenant nodded. "Heil Hitler."

"Heil Hitler," replied Karl.

He shut the door behind the Lieutenant. Karl walked back into the guest bedroom as patiently and normally as he could. Inside, he saw Analiese still at her position beside Newkirk and Franz leaning against the foot of the bed with his arms crossed over his chest. He stood up when Karl came in.

"I'll go get them from the cellar," he said.

"No," said Karl, holding up a hand. "Wait."

Franz let himself fall against the bed again. They listened to the shouts outside. The patrol was moving on. They heard the soldiers moving about their property. One walked right past the window, knocking about the bushes seeking anything unusual. Then, it was quiet, but no one moved.

"Stay here," said Karl.

He left the room and walked over to the front window. The patrol was headed back down the driveway as they had come. He watched until he saw that they were almost to the road, and then went back into the guest bedroom.

"You can go now," he told Franz.

Franz hurriedly left the room. Karl walked over to his wife.

"I think I get a few more gray hairs every time we must deal with those monsters," said Analiese. She looked down at Newkirk. "And these boys. Every time we see them I think more and more about the fact that it is very unlikely that they will live through the war."

"It is very unlikely that anybody in our line of work live through any war," said Karl. "But whatever we do here, that no one really knows about, we are saving lives. Even if we don't live to see the day that the Allies take Germany and our people can renew its glory for what it is supposed to be, we will be able to enjoy the peace we have in heaven after a long, hard road."

"I know," said Analiese. "Sometimes I just wish that either way, the journey ends soon."

"Everyone does, my sweet," said Karl, taking her hand into his.

Franz returned with Pepin, Kinch, and LeBeau. LeBeau walked over to the bed and knelt beside it, so that he was looking straight at Newkirk's face.

"You sleep through the craziest of times, _mon ami_," said LeBeau. "But I think you should wake up now."

Karl chuckled. "If it were only that easy." He moved aside for Kinch to stand beside the bed.

"I think he will wake up," said Kinch. "It just doesn't really go right for him to die right now."

"It's war," said Pepin. "A lot of people die at the wrong time."

"No," said Kinch. "We go when we're supposed to go. And something tells me it's just not Newkirk's time to go."

"Oui," said LeBeau. He glared at Newkirk. "So wake up. We need you. Think about all the things we will not be able to get our 'ands on without you around to snatch them. Think about all the tricks you 'ave not shown us yet, and all the money you 'ave not won from us yet. Think about all the gin games you and André 'ave to play so that 'e can beat you. Think about all the good times you will miss out of you leave now."

"Good times," asked Franz. "He is a prisoner."

"But 'e 'as us," said LeBeau fervently. "And we—together—'ave a lot of good times."

"Don't worry, LeBeau," said Kinch. "He'll wake up. Just give him some time."

"I do not know how much time that can be," said Karl. "No doubt, you are being searched for."

LeBeau squeezed Newkirk's hand and kissed him on the forehead. "You will wake."

Outside the window, someone smiled in the shadows as he overheard those inside talk. He cocked his gun and looked around. Then, when he was sure that all was clear, he made a dash for the woods, and disappeared into the darkness.

Then, somewhere inside Newkirk, another connection was made.

_ André._

_ Means Andrew. Andrew._

_ André. Means…Louie._

_ Louie. Means….means…_

_ Nothing._


	11. Traitors and Friends

**Chapter Eleven: T****raitors ****and**** F****riends**

"Okay," said Hogan. "Drink as much as you can."

He held out a bottle of whiskey to Carter, who took it uneasily.

"You sure, Colonel," he asked. "I mean, I don't hold my drink very well."

"Will you pass out," asked Johann.

"I did once, when I was out with Newkirk and LeBeau," he paused when he saw Colonel Hogan's expression. "Anyway, if I drink enough…yes."

"Good," said Hogan. "The more you drink, the less you'll feel."

Carter uncorked the bottle and began to drink. He nearly gagged on the first sip as the liquid burned his throat. Hogan turned around and looked at his 'instruments' on the table. They had been able to persuade Fleischer, with Geoff's help, to get what they needed to get the bullet out of Carter's knee. They had been given two small, sharp knives, a pair of tweezers, some towels, fresh bandages, and whiskey. He was rather surprised at how easily Fleischer had given them what they needed, but Hogan decided to forget the matter, because he didn't want to know what Fleischer was up to at the moment. Decker and Berg were in the room with them, their backs to the door, and their automatics at the ready. Johann kept shooting them annoyed looks.

Hogan just continued to focus on what he had to do. He knew he would be saving Carter's leg, if not his life, in the long run by taking the bullet out, but that didn't make it any easier. He wasn't so sure about how steady his hand was going to be. Carter kept reassuring him, telling him he would do just fine and that he trusted him, but Hogan was still nervous. He was glad Carter trusted him, but he also knew that Carter would trust anyone he knew with just about anything, without thinking of the consequences. So, it really wasn't much help to Hogan.

He looked back at Carter. Carter took another long swig, and then blinked rapidly and shook his head.

"I…I think it's workin'…siiiiir," he managed to get out.

Hogan and Johann exchanged a grimace.

"Yeah," said Hogan. "Me too. Keep drinking."

Carter took another swig. Hogan noticed that that was half the bottle. He started to untie the handkerchief from Carter's knee. Then, he tore away the trousers so that he could see everything clearly. The blood was dry. He wiped away as much of it as he could, so that the hole could clearly be seen. Johann held the oil lamp over Carter's knee.

"I think it may have lodged itself close to the knee cap," said Johann. "Which means it shouldn't be too deep."

"Well, that's one stroke of luck we've had tonight," said Hogan.

_Thud._

Hogan and Johann looked up. Carter was lying on his back, passed out. The bottle lay beside him. Johann chuckled and picked it up.

"You Americans cannot hold your drink, eh," he asked.

"Correction: Andrew Carter can't," said Hogan. He took the bottle from Johann and poured some whiskey over the wound, and cleaned it some more. He looked at Carter, who unconsciously twitched.

"Okay," said Hogan. "Here it goes."

He picked up one of the small knives. It was a peeling knife. The curved edge would help loosen the bullet. Hogan took a deep breath and then went in. He was hesitant at first, but became comfortable with it. He steered clear of anything that looked like it should not be touched. He was no doctor, but he thought he saw a ligament. He was so careful, never cutting too deeply, because he was afraid he might cut something that could not afford to be cut. When he found the bullet, he took the tweezers and as gently as possible pulled it out. Throughout the whole procedure, Carter stirred some, but was too deeply intoxicated to wake up. For this, Hogan was glad. If Carter had been able to feel everything, Hogan was sure he would not have been able to do it as quickly.

Hogan put the bullet on the table, and then Johann helped him clean the wound and bandage it. When they were done, they sat back and examined their handiwork. Hogan smiled pleasantly.

"Glad that's over with," he said.

"Ja. I think this calls for a drink," said Johann.

Hogan was then glad that his back was to Decker and Berg because as he fiddled in his jacket pockets, he fingered something familiar. A pill. A sedative.

Hogan managed to squelch his delight, but he suddenly grabbed Johann's forearm and squeezed it tightly.

"Yes, this does call for a small celebration," said Hogan. "I mean, it isn't everyday you perform a surgery like that."

Johann nodded almost imperceptibly, letting Hogan know that whatever Hogan was up to, he would play along. Hogan flicked his head back slightly, and Johann moved his eyes behind them to where Decker and Berg stood, watching them. Johann nodded, and they stood up. Johann picked up the bottle. Hogan nodded, and he took a tiny sip from it, but made it look like he was taking a long gulp. He then passed it to Hogan, and Hogan did the same. Johann turned around and looked at Decker and Berg. He flamboyantly waved his arms about.

"Hogan," he said. "Our guests—er uninvited guests—should have some too."

Hogan grinned, glad that Johann had caught on. He turned around and gestured flamboyantly as well.

"Of course," he said. "I forgot my manners. Bad taste on my part. But this whiskey tastes good. You fellas should have some."

Hogan and Johann took a step towards Decker and Berg, but the guards immediately raised their automatics. Hogan and Johann threw up their hands.

"All right, all right," said Hogan, backing up a bit. "But it sure is good. Makes you feel all warm inside. You know, while you two are down here guarding us, your buddies are probably enjoying some schnapps or curled up in their nice warm beds. And you guys, you get to stand in this little, dark, cold, wet cellar, watching us, who couldn't possibly do a thing down here. Especially with a wounded friend." He paused. "You sure you don't want any whiskey?"

He held it out. Decker and Berg shifted on their feet, but neither of them moved forward. Hogan took one step closer, but they didn't raise their weapons any higher.

"A little sip wouldn't do any harm. Unless you can't hold your liquor like my friend over there. Is that it? You fellas just don't want show that you can't down some whiskey without falling over? Well, that's okay. We all have our faults."

He began to turn around.

"Wait," said Decker. "Come here."

Hogan smiled, but made it a kind one, instead of giving away the devilish feeling he was feeling at the moment.

"Ah, now we're talking," said Hogan. He walked to the steps of the cellar and started to climb them. As he did, he took the bottom of his officer's tunic and wiped the bottle neck. "Here you go. It's kind of dusty."

He handed Decker, the larger of the two men, the bottle of whiskey. Decker did not even think twice. He put the bottle to his lips and threw his head back as he took a quick sip. He then handed the bottle over to Berg. Hogan watched with bated breath for the reaction. As Berg drank his, Decker suddenly went limp and crumbled to the floor. Berg looked down startled, and then started to sag himself. Hogan quickly jumped up and punched Berg underneath the chin. That did him in.

"What was that," exclaimed Johann in an excited whisper.

"I found a sedative pill in my pocket," explained Hogan. "It must've been left in there by accident from the last time we had to use these jackets."

"That's the best accident that's ever happened to us," said Johann.

"Yeah," agreed Hogan. "Now let's take care of these guys."

Johann and Hogan quietly pulled Berg and Decker down the stairs and onto the ground, where they relieved them of their weapons. Johann broke a chair and they each took a leg. Then, they took the remaining whiskey and drenched the towels with it. Before they lit anything, Hogan woke up Carter.

He placed one of the towels over Carter's nose and mouth, and Carter woke up sputtering.

"Wazgoinon," he asked quickly, shaking his head.

"We're getting out of here," said Hogan.

"My leg," asked Carter.

"Got the bullet out, cleaned it, and bandaged it up," said Hogan. He grabbed Carter's forearm. "Here, get up."

He pulled Carter up, and the young demolitions man swayed for a second. Johann handed him some water. Carter drank it gratefully, and coughed.

"Thanks," he said. His voice was a bit hoarse. Hogan smiled.

"Take a few steps," he ordered.

Carter walked a few feet, clearly favoring his injured leg. But he was moving better than he had earlier. He leaned against a support beam and looked back at Colonel Hogan.

"I won't be able to run very fast," said Carter. "But I'll do my best."

Hogan silently cursed.

"The confusion should give us a head start," said Johann. "And we'll help you."

"You call it, Andrew," said Hogan genuinely.

"What," asked Carter, confused. "You want me to say whether or not we should go for it?"

"Yes," said Hogan. "Do you think you'll be able to run hard and fast for about a minute?"

"Of course let's do it!" Carter looked at them like they were crazy.

"Okay," said Hogan. He took a match and lit the towel. It became like a torch. Johann did the same. "They'll smell this, so we'll have to do it quickly. Carter go stand by the other door. Get underneath the stairs and wait there." Carter quickly did. Meanwhile, Johann and Hogan put flames to the dry door that led into the house. They threw a chair on it to keep it going. Then, they began to burn the shelves. They pulled Decker and Berg away from the flames and into the middle of the cellar. As the fire began to spread, the prisoners started to yell.

"Help! Fire! Fire! Help us! Help!"

Johann ran over to the cellar door that led outside and began to bang on it.

_"Feuer! Feuer! Helfen Sie uns!" _(1)

Hogan stepped away from the shelves as the fire spread. It made a small popping sound as it exploded the whiskey bottle.

"Colonel, why isn't anyone coming," asked Carter, worriedly.

Johann banged loudly at the door.

_"Bitte! Helfen Sie uns! Lassen Sie uns nicht verbrennen!" _(2) He jumped back when the edge of an axe slammed into the door and nearly hit his head. He smiled at Carter.

"Always have a way of getting in, don't they," he said. He stepped back as another blow hit the door.

"Where's the guy with the keys," yelled Hogan nervously. The fire was growing faster than he had expected. He dragged Decker away some more, and Johann pulled Berg away too.

The door gave way to another blow from the axe. Johann pulled away the boards. Hogan ran to one side of the stairs before anyone came in. Johann ran up a few steps and pointed into the cellar.

_"Die Wachen…sie sind an draußen vom Rauch vorbeigegangen! Wir müssen sie draußen erhalten!" _(3)

Two guards hurried down. When they got to the bottom, Hogan jumped out and struck them both on the back of the head. Carter retrieved one man's weapon. Then, he and Hogan went back to their positions under the stairs. Johann raced back up the stairs again, beckoning for more men to help.

_"Die Balken fallen. Ihre Männer werden eingefangen werden! Eile!" _(4)

Three more men ran in. Hogan once again jumped out and knocked out two. The third spun back around, but Carter tripped him through the space in the stairs. When he was on the ground, Johann struck him on the back of the head with his pistol.

Johann hurried back up and looked around, coughing. The smoke was taking its toll on him. He saw no one. He looked back down.

"Quickly!"

He shouldered his rifle and helped Carter up the stairs. Hogan hurried up last. They quickly dove behind some bushes as three more men hurried past them and went downstairs. They noticed Fleischer was one of them. As soon as they passed, the three fugitives took off. Hogan pushed Carter in front of him. As soon as they got into the cover of the trees, Johann and Hogan turned around to see if anyone had seen them. One man had, and was shouting for his comrades.

"Carter, run," yelled Hogan.

Carter had never actually stopped, though. He had kept running, and tried even harder when he heard Hogan yelling. He started to slow down, though, hesitant to leave his commanding officer. He almost stopped, but he knew he was in no condition to help. He gritted his teeth and kept running.

Hogan never looked back to see if Carter had run. When the one man had called out for help, he had fired one, deadly shot. Then, Geoff and another man came from the front of the house. Johann stood up, and waved his arms. Both of the older men saw him. With another deadly shot, Hogan took the man beside Geoff out. Geoff nearly had a heart attack.

_"Schnell, Vater,"_ said Johann.

Geoff ran over, just as Fleischer and two men came out of the cellar. Fleischer pointed at them angrily.

"Get them!"

Hogan and Johann got behind trees and began firing at their captors.

"Father, run," ordered Johann.

Geoff did not need to be told twice. He took off running. Hogan and Johann started firing again, and bullets started whizzing by and hitting all around them. Hogan looked over at Johann.

"We need to make a go for it," he said.

"Ready when you are," said Johann. He fired another shot.

"Ready…" Hogan shot once more. "Go!"

They both took off. Bullets seemed to be falling out of the sky as they ran. Hogan wanted to fall down and curl up into a little ball in order to not be hit. But he just kept running, never looking back. They broke past branches in their faces, smashed through bushes, and jumped over roots and rocks to get as far away as possible from their pursuers. Neither of them had any destination in mind; just get as far away as possible. They further they ran, the less bullets went by. Hogan began to become hopeful…they might make it through this after all…they might really get away…they might…

"AAAAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!"

Johann cried out as he was struck by a bullet in his shoulder. He stumbled down and rolled, catching Hogan in the ankle, and making him fall as well. It was silent for a moment. Hogan rolled over and looked at Johann who was slowly getting up as he clutched his shoulder, with blood oozing between his fingers. Hogan helped him up, and they almost started running again. But then they were immediately surrounded by Fleischer's men. All hope left Hogan as his shoulders sagged. The men forced him and Johann onto their knees, and then they frisked them, taking all their weapons away. They were pulled up onto their feet. With guns on their backs, they were pushed forward back towards the house.

Hogan kept his eyes on the back of Johann's head. Johann was gasping in pain, and clutching his shoulder. Hogan felt sorry for the man, and angered that yet someone else had gotten hurt on this mission gone wrong. Fortunately, Carter and Geoff had gotten away. Hogan could not be more relieved that Carter had gotten away. He hoped that the young American was able to get to help before anyone caught up with him. Hogan didn't really care where Geoff ended up. He was just worried about his own men.

At the thought of his men, his mind drifted off to Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk, and he wondered what they were up to. He could see LeBeau nursing Newkirk back to health, with Wilson hovering over like a hawk. He could picture Kinch at the radio, contacting Underground units to keep a lookout for them. And he could see everyone else protecting Hogan and Carter's absence from Schultz and Klink. Well, maybe just Klink. Schultz usually knew when someone really was missing. He just kept out of the way. He could also see Newkirk being hotheaded; not listening to reason. He would want to barge right out of camp and start searching all of Germany for Hogan and Carter. Hogan smiled; the Englishman rarely showed soft emotions, but everyone knew he had them, especially when something went wrong. And Kinch would be patiently calming Newkirk down. LeBeau would be remaining neutral, all the while trying to keep Newkirk in bed, threatening to have Wilson sedate him if necessary.

But as they neared the house, Hogan got a sickening feeling, telling him things were bad. He didn't really know how things were with the rest of his men, but he prayed they were better off than he was. And he held his chin up as they were pushed in front of Fleischer. One good thing had come from their escape attempt: Carter had gotten away.

Hogan smiled, looking Fleischer right in the eye.

"Maybe next time," he said. "You'll pick some better men for the job."

Someone from behind struck him across the head, and everything went black.

()()()()()()

Carter stopped dead in his tracks when someone screamed from behind him. He spun around, look wildly through the bushes and trees, hoping to see anyone. But the woods went quiet, and he heard and saw nothing else. He started to go back, but remembered Colonel Hogan yelling for him to run. No, he could not go back. If his Colonel had been recaptured, or shot, he could not let his last sacrifice be made in vain. Tears stung Carter's eyes, but he wiped them away and started hurrying away. He heard a few shouts from behind, and someone was being ordered to go after him. He started running again, even though his leg was throbbing with pain. All he wanted to do was curl up in a little ball and go to sleep, and make the pain stop. He wanted to disappear until he was ready to come back out. He wanted everything to stop until he was ready to take on the war again. But he fought those wants and kept running.

He stumbled a lot, and fell a few times. He didn't bother trying to be discreet, because it was fruitless. The further he went, though, the more he tried to think of where he was. He had heard or seen nothing that indicated he was being followed, so he knew he had to start making a decision about where to go. He wanted to go back to camp; that's where Kinch, LeBeau and Newkirk would be. He knew Newkirk would be either trying to get out of bed and away from LeBeau, or pacing up and down through the barracks or tunnels, worrying about him and Colonel Hogan. Still, he was all turned around. He had no idea what direction camp was supposed to be in. Even with the dawn light coming through the trees, he did not know where to begin. He thought about the river, because he knew that was supposed to bring them close to camp. But he had no idea where the river was. But he did remember that they had run away the same way they had come in. So, he was bound to come to the river at some point.

Carter didn't know how long he trekked, but it seemed like hours. The morning sun rose, and when he stopped to take a break, at a little creek, he figured it was about six o'clock. As he sat down and took the cool water from his hands, he noticed that the water was flowing swiftly and slightly down hill. A realization dawned on Carter: he could follow the creek to the river. He knew that much. Spurred on by this hopeful information, he pulled himself up and started following the flow of the creek.

About ten minutes into his slow walk, he heard voices. They were dim, and he couldn't make out what they were saying. He hunkered down behind a tree whose roots went into the creek, and his boots dug into the little pebbles, making a slush sound. He crouched there, with his eyes towards the voices. They were getting louder. He started to make out what they were saying. They were speaking German, but by now Carter could translate.

"_The cabin gets its water supply from a well. The well gets its water from one of these creeks that goes into the river. If we find the right one, it will lead us straight to the cabin."_

Carter nearly jumped for joy. Someone was looking for them! Someone was going to find the cabin, and save Colonel Hogan! He started to jump up, and shout for them. But then, he could just feel Newkirk's hand on his arm, pulling him back down.

_Not yet, mate. We don't even know who these blokes are. Wot if they're the ruddy Gestapo or somethin'?_

_ I never thought of that,_ thought Carter.

_Yea, well think 'arder next time._

Carter listened as their voices became louder. Another one spoke.

"_Perhaps one of us should go back, and report what we have found so far. The two cubs will want to know that we might have found where Papa Bear and the other cub were taken."_

Carter almost got up again. They sure sounded like they were the good guys. He made his mind to get up. But before he did, he put the pistol he had taken from one of the guards, and tucked it in his pants at the small of his back, and put his jacket and shirt back over it, concealing it. That was a trick Newkirk had taught him, in case he wanted to keep a weapon on him without anyone knowing. Carter was pretty sure that if someone wanted to frisk him, they would.

_You just want them to think you've only got one weapon._ Carter could remember that little lesson on deception that Newkirk had given him that day in the tunnels.

Carter shouldered the automatic that he had also taken from another guard. Then, he started to climb out of the creek, and towards the voices. But he slipped when his bad leg gave way, and splashed into the creek. Quickly, he was surrounded by five partisans.

"Hey! It is you, the lost _Amerikaner_ cub," said one man. He and another quickly helped Carter up.

"You were shot," asked another, pointing to his knee.

"Yeah," said Carter. "When they captured us. But Papa Bear took the bullet out right before we escaped."

"You escaped," asked one of the men holding him up.

Carter, who usually made those kind of comments, was about to tell him how obvious it was.

_No, we're still locked up in the bloody cellar._

Carter smirked, thinking of Newkirk saying something like that.

"Just me," said Carter. "I think. We made a break for it but Papa Bear and our other agent were recaptured I think. They would've caught up with me by now if they hadn't."

"_Ja_," said one of the partisans. "That is true. Fynn, Niklas, help the cub get to the Bachmeier's. Ambros, you go with them to keep guard."

The two men who were holding Carter up at the moment nodded. Another man, who was the tall and broad, stepped forward. The other two men appeared to be the oldest of them all, and leading them.

"Where were you being kept," asked one of them.

"In a little cabin, that way," said Carter, pointing in the direction where he had come from.

"_Gut_," said the man. "I was right. Do you know how many were guarding you and Papa Bear?"

"Quite a few," said Carter. "I'd say there were twelve men at the cabin in all, not counting their leader, who says he's Captain Arne Fleischer."

The partisans murmured angrily.

"What," asked Carter. "Do you know him?"

"_Ja_," said one. "Up until now, we thought he was one of us."

"Great," said Carter. "He really does know everything about us."

"No," said another. "He doesn't know that we know about his little cabin. Do not worry _Amerikaner_; we might just have the element of surprise. Our little friend does not realize how many people are searching for you."

"Well, he's not very little," said Carter. "But he sure did underestimate us."

"I guess so," said Ambros. "If he let a little wounded guy like you get away."

Carter glared. "Like I said: Papa Bear and the other agent probably gave themselves up for me to get away. You'd better find them."

"Do not worry," said one of the older men. "We will. Now go."

"Wait," said Carter. "Why are we going to the Bachmeier's? Wouldn't it be best to go back to camp?"

"That is not where your friends are," explained someone. "They brought your other wounded friend to _Artz_ Bachmeier."

"Oh, that make sense," said Carter. "Okay. Well, yeah, let's get going. I don't want to be out here anymore."

The partisans laughed. "We figured as much."

The three younger partisans took Carter one way, and the two elder ones went the other way. Carter was glad to finally be able to just focus on putting one foot in front of the other again. They were going to make it through this. They were going to make it through this together.

()()()()()()

Colonel Klink was sitting as his desk, about to fall asleep with his head on his papers. He was spent. He had spent all night calling every department he could think of that might be able to get him food. General Burkhalter had not been happy about being woken up at four in the morning, but had realized the dire situation and was able to make arrangements for food to be delivered by the Luftwaffe in a few days time. The Red Cross would also be making a special trip in a few days with supplies to rebuild the mess hall and kitchens and food. But none of this was an immediate help to their problem. They could not very well just not eat for a few days. He knew that some of the prisoners had their Red Cross packages, but not everyone did, and the packages were not meant to do what they would need to do. Not to mention, Klink also knew that most of his guards took the liberty of taking Red Cross packages. However the biggest problem of all was that five prisoners were gone. Five prisoners missing were definitely a problem, but the fact that they were Colonel Hogan and his staff made it much worse. They were always the ones that could calm down the prisoners and the guards too, if need be. But now, they were gone, and Klink felt more alone than he had felt in a long time.

Fortunately, Sergeant Baker and Sergeant Schultz had managed to get a rough compromise to hold the prisoners and guard off of each other's backs for the time being. Baker was now the action Senior Officer, and Klink was happy to know that the prisoners had elected him. That told him that at least, for now there was no inner prisoner turmoil. That often caused a lot of grief. Bu now, as the sun rose, he knew he had to deal with the problem that everyone was hungry, including himself, and there was absolutely no food to give.

There was a knock on his door.

"Come in," he said wearily.

Schultz stepped in, and quietly shut the door. He was mindful of his Kommandant's worry.

"Herr Kommandant," he said. "The prisoners are lined up for roll call."

"Very good," said Klink, standing up. He walked around his desk and Schultz handed him his coat, cover, and riding crop. "Danke." Schultz opened the door for him and they walked outside.

The prisoners were lined up, scrutinizing Klink warily. Klink knew he was not the most popular am in the camp right now.

"Prisoners," he said. "And my guards. We are in a difficult time right now. What happened yesterday was an accident, and must be viewed that way by everyone. No one is to blame, and therefore, our situation cannot be blamed on anyone. We are going to have to work together for a few days, until our food comes. Every Red Cross package will be handed over to me, Sergeant Schultz, and Sergeant Baker, and placed in the rec hall. The three of us will meet and discuss the rations that everyone will be given. Now, please hand over anything. This is no time to be greedy. We are all going to have to be patient and share. But know that every man in this camp will be getting the same amount. No guard or prisoner will be receiving any more than the next man."

He paused, expecting an entourage of flak from the prisoners. He then remembered that his main antagonists, Colonel Hogan and his men, were not present.

"Now, with the escape of Colonel Hogan and the five other prisoners, you have all elected that Sergeant Baker be your new Senior Officer. Therefore, any complaints must go through him. I will tell you now. I will not tolerate anyone disrespecting my guards, nor will I tolerate my guards disrespecting you. Just know that help is on the way. Now, Sergeant Baker, please join Sergeant Schultz and I in my office. The rest of you, dismissed."

()()()()()()

Klink walked from his office, needing a break from being stuck in there. He had just got off the phone with General Burkhalter. The General had been furious that Klink had not notified him earlier about Colonel Hogan's escape. Klink had never bothered to tell because he knew what the reaction would be, was pretty sure his own guards could take care of it, and most importantly, was afraid that the Gestapo would get involved. That meant that Major Hochstetter would be coming, and there was no one Klink hated more than Major Hochstetter.

If—when—they got Colonel Hogan back, Klink was going to make him wish he had never tried to escape. He had never thought that Hogan would leave, because he had always cared about his men. Of course, when the time came, Klink realized that the opportunity must have been too tempting. And, four of his closest men had gone with him. Klink didn't really blame any of them. Of course, he wasn't happy with it either. Now, the Gestapo and the Luftwaffe brass would be all over him, angry that their prize had gotten away. Klink also knew he was probably in for a trip to the Russian Front if Hogan did not return. Forget the other four men, Colonel Hogan was the prize, and if he escaped, Klink would never be heard from again.

As he took a walk through the camp, he noticed the prisoners milling about aimlessly. Some were playing ball, and others were talking, and others were alone, just walking around like he was. Everyone, including the guards had gotten a small meal of one chocolate bar so far. It wasn't much, but it was something. But Klink could already feel the pangs of hunger.

He was about to return to his office, when he heard shouting from the gates. He looked and was surprised to see civilians with wheelbarrows coming their way. But what he was more surprised to see was that the wheelbarrows were filled with food. One man came with a cart of wheat sacks. He smiled, and waved for the guards to open the gates. He was so happy, he did not even bother keeping the prisoners away from the gates, as they ran over cheering.

* * *

Translations:

(1) Fire! Fire! Help us!

(2) Please! Help us! Don't let us burn!

(3) The guards…they passed out from the smoke! We need to get them outside!

(4) The beams are falling! Your men will be trapped! Hurry!


	12. The Wheels Are Turning

**Chapter Twelve: T****he**** W****heels**** A****re**** T****urning**

Carter sighed with relief when they reached the edge of the woods and they could see the Bachmeiers' farmhouse. It was a comforting thought that his friends were safely tucked away in that home, warm and probably in better condition than he was. He was really eager to talk to Newkirk, and catch up on everything that had happened while had been locked away. He was also ready to lie down. His was now ready to saw his leg off and just do away with the pain. He knew, though, that Karl would have a pain killer of some sort, and that he would be soothed by Analiese's amazing coffee. He smiled at the thought.

When they came out of the field and onto the more neatly furnished grounds, the backdoor burst open and LeBeau came running out to them.

"André! You are okay! You are alive!"

"I sure hope so," said Carter absently. They stopped as LeBeau hugged him fiercely. He paused and looked down at Carter's knee.

"Those filthy Boche! They shot you!"

"It's all right," said Carter. "I'll explain inside. I need to sit down."

"Of course, of course," said LeBeau excitedly.

They started to walk back into the house. Kinch opened the door and stood on the steps, watching them come with a pleased smile.

"Nice to have you back, buddy," he said. "Where's the Colonel."

"'E said 'e would explain inside," said LeBeau, pushing Kinch back through the door. "'E needs to sit."

"Okay, okay," said Kinch. He held the door open for Carter, Fynn, and Niklas to get through. Ambros came last, followed by Franz who had left his hiding spot to see the reunion. Analiese moved them through the kitchen, where she was cooking breakfast. Fynn and Niklas set him down on the sofa. Karl then came in from the guest bedroom.

"Ah, Andrew," he said. "It has been awhile since we have seen you around here. Now, let's have a look at your leg. You got shot?"

"Yes sir," replied Carter. "When we were captured. But Colonel Hogan got the bullet out when we were in the cellar. It feels better without the bullet, but I need some painkillers."

"Analiese," said Karl.

"Right away," said Analiese. She bustled back into the kitchen. Karl put Carter's leg up on the sofa and began to undo the bandage.

"I just want to inspect it, and warp it again with some antibiotics," he explained.

"Sure," said Carter. He looked around. "Where's Newkirk?"

Everyone exchanged looks that told him everything was not okay.

"Well," said Kinch. "He's not doing so good. It's a lot to explain. We'll wait until Karl's finished up with you. While he's doing that, tell us what happened."

Carter wasn't too happy with not knowing what happened to Newkirk, but he quickly filled everyone in on what happened after their capture and then the escape attempt.

"It was a good plan," said LeBeau. "It almost worked too. For all of you I mean."

"Yeah," said Carter. "I just wish I knew how Colonel Hogan was doing."

"He'll be okay because he'll know you got away," said Kinch. "He's always thinking of us before himself. Just think about this way. Now that you're out of the way, he can free himself."

"Gee, thanks," said Carter with a smirk. "But he still has Johann with him, and one of them got hurt."

"And Fleischer will be harder on them both," said Karl. "But at least we know where they are."

"I still cannot believe that Fleischer betrayed us," said Franz. "He has given us a lot of useful information over the past three years; even before you guys were in business at the camp."

"You think there's something more to this," said Kinch.

"I would hope so," said Franz. "He has a lot of information on a lot of people in the Underground."

"Why have we never met him," asked LeBeau.

"You have," said Franz. "His code name is Black Paw."

"Black Paw," exclaimed Kinch. "I can't even think of how many times I've spoken with him over the radio. Are you sure this is the same guy?"

"Positive," said Franz. "But I bet there's more to this than we know. I mean, if he has all this information, then why would he conduct business this way? Would it not make more sense to just go right up front and give everything away? He could easily cripple the Underground by giving all the information he has away."

"I don't want to think about the whys anymore," said Kinch. "We need to just focus on getting Colonel Hogan and Johann back. When those other two guys come back, we're going to plan this carefully."

Pepin came up from the cellar. "James, the radio. The camp needs to talk to you."

"Right," said Kinch. He patted Carter on the shoulder. "Nice to have you back. Get some rest." He left with Pepin.

Carter looked at LeBeau. "Now, where's Newkirk?"

"In the guest bedroom," said LeBeau.

"I want to see him," demanded Carter. He winced as Karl finished his ministrations and tightly tied the bandage around his leg.

"Robert did a good job," he said. "Not bad for someone who has no medical experience." He got up, leaving Carter and LeBeau alone.

"Are you hungry," asked LeBeau, trying to change the subject.

"No," said Carter. "I want to see Newkirk."

"Fine," said LeBeau. He helped Carter up, and they made their way to the guest bedroom. LeBeau stopped at the door, so that Carter could see.

"What's wrong with him," asked Carter in a small voice.

While LeBeau helped Carter sit down at the bed, LeBeau explained Newkirk's condition. Carter was shocked speechless for a long time. LeBeau leaned against the bedside table and watched the young American study Newkirk, who was giving no signs of life except for the shallow breathing he was keeping up.

"I thought…" began Carter. "I was so sure…since we'd found him, that he'd be okay…ya know? I mean…I didn't think he was real bad off."

"Neither did I," said LeBeau. "None of us did."

"Well, as long as he's alive, he can get better," said Carter. "And that's what I'm gonna think until he does get better, or…or someone proves me wrong. So there."

LeBeau smiled at Carter's determined expression, as if passion and hope alone could bring a man back to perfect health.

"André," he said softly. "With a friend like you, a man could get through anything."

()()()()()()

"Jaeger, here," said Kinch over the radio. "Go ahead Goldilocks."

"Hey Jaeger," Kinch heard Baker say. "We had some friends drop by with bread. Did you send them?"

"It was Jaeger's idea," said Kinch. "I'm guessing it helped."

"You bet," replied Baker. "And one of the vegetables talked. Someone dropped by the house last night and reported to us our English muffin's condition. Doesn't sound too good."

"Nope," replied Kinch. "Did he tell you everything?"

"As much to say that you guys might come home with one cub less," said Baker sorrowfully. "Anything new?"

"Well, we got our cub back from the Big Bad Wolf," said Kinch. "But not our Papa."

"That's good," said Baker. "Do you know location of the Big Bad Wolf's lair," asked Baker.

"Yes," said Kinch. "We've got men scouting. When they come back, we'll come up with something."

"Right," said Baker. "Keep it up. We'll be fine. By the way, our little Major friend is coming around soon. Be on the watch out."

"You too," said Kinch. "Keep a low profile."

"Will do," said Baker. "Good luck. Goldilocks signing off."

"Jaeger signing off," said Kinch. He got up and went back upstairs to relay the message to the others.

He found LeBeau and Carter in the guest bedroom, oblivious to the call for breakfast from Analiese. He looked at LeBeau who shook his head sadly at Kinch. Kinch walked over and laid a hand on carter's shoulder.

"C'mon, Carter," he said. "We need to go eat. You look tired and hungry yourself."

"I'm not hungry," murmured Carter absently. He was just sitting there, looking at Newkirk with a forlorn look on his face.

"Yeah you are," replied Kinch. "You have to be."

"We had some food there," said Carter.

"Some," asked LeBeau. "Like bread and water? Mon ami, you must eat something more than that. You 'ave been shot. Your body needs good food to 'elp it recover. And there is no better food in Germany than Madame Analiese's."

"What about Newkirk," asked Carter. "He needs to eat."

"He can't eat," said Kinch softly. "And you know that."

"I won't eat until Newkirk can eat," said Carter.

"That is very stupid."

They all turned around to see Analiese standing in the doorway, glaring at Carter.

"Your friends are right Andrew," she said. You must eat. But doing this to yourself is no good. You have to recovery, and you will not do it by sulking around. Peter would box your ears if he knew you were doing that. I would too, but I have never hit one of my children and I will not start now."

"Ma'am?" said Carter.

"Do not ma'am me, as you Americans are so found of doing when you wish to show that you do not understand something," said Analiese quickly. "I know you know what I mean. Now, you will come in here, and sit at the table with the rest of us, and eat your breakfast, and you will enjoy your breakfast." Her gaze softened a bit. "It pains me, too, Andrew, that I can do nothing more for someone I love. But we must move on, because we are caught in the largest snag of our lifetimes, and there are more pressing problems we must tend to."

Carter turned away and looked at Newkirk.

_She's right you know. Leave off, Andrew, and go fetch the Guv'nor back._

"Okay," said Carter.

He got up off the bed. Kinch let him lean on him, and they all left the bedroom. LeBeau was the last to leave. Before he did, however, he went across the room and pulled open the drapes, so that the sunlight fell over the room. He looked at Newkirk.

"Is that better, _mon ami_," he asked. He paused. "I thought so. Take care."

And he left.

()()()()()()

Hogan woke up to screams. His head was throbbing, and he could not make sense of anything. Except the screams. The first sensation was fear, but nor for himself. He thought for a moment that the screams were Carter, and that he had failed in protecting him. But he them remembered that Carter had gotten away. The next fear, though, was that maybe they had recaptured the young American, and now they were taking out his wrath on him. Hogan felt guilty. He should have done better. He should have made sure Carter got away.

The screams died away, and Hogan began to come to more senses. He could not see a thing, but he realized after a moment or two that that was because he was wearing a blindfold. It was quiet wherever he was, and he realized the screams had not been in the same room in him. He guessed that he was alone, wherever he was. The air was still; he was alone.

He could not move. He was in a chair, and each ankle was bound to a leg of the chair. His hands were manacled to a table in front of him. There was a rope around his chest that kept his back to the chair. Lastly, he was gagged with a foul smelling cloth that was making him gag, which made him start to choke. He calmed himself down, with deep breaths through his nose, and eventually he overcame the foul smell. He began to think more clearly, and went over what had happened.

He knew that he was most likely going to be punished for the escape attempt. He knew Johann would be too. He figured that was what the screams he had heard were from. He felt like the bottom of his stomach had fallen out. He started breathing harder again, fearing his own taste of their retribution. But he made himself calmer again. He would not let them win the mental battle. He struggled some against the bonds, testing them, but found they were all tightly secured. He would not be getting away without aid. So, knowing that he had no say in the physical torment he was going to feel. He began to pray for the strength to hold out, or the weakness to lose consciousness quickly.

Suddenly, he heard the door bust open, but he sensed no light coming in. There were some quick footsteps towards him. Whoever it was bumped the table. Then, there was hand on the back of his neck, the pulled him to sit up as straight as possible. About a second later, the wind was knocked out of him, with two quick hits in the gut. Whoever had his neck smashed his head against the table. In a daze, he felt his gag and blindfold being taken off. They grabbed his neck again and pulled his head off the table. He was slapped quickly on each cheek, and his eyes came into focus.

Fleischer was standing across the table from him, leaning against it, and staring menacingly at him. Mandel, the man who had shot Carter in the leg, had a firm grip on the back of Hogan's neck. Hogan glared at the man for a moment, and then spat on his shoes. Fleischer laughed, but Mandel smashed his head against the table again. Hogan bit his lip with the blow, and now blood dripped down his chin and onto the table. Fleischer pushed away from the table, and walked away from Hogan. He started pacing. He did that for a few minutes, and then stopped and looked at Hogan.

"You are not talking, Colonel," he said.

"I didn't think you'd want me too," replied Hogan emotionless.

"Why?"

"Because you haven't asked me anything."

"But I hear you have a habit of making wise remarks to your captors."

_Damn,_ thought Hogan. _He does know a lot about me._

"I got tired of it."

"Of course," said Fleischer. He resumed pacing. "Well, I was going to ask you a few questions earlier. However, you made it rather difficult for me when you tried to escape."

"I try my best," said Hogan.

Fleischer chuckled. "Ah, there is that—what is it you Americans say?—wisecrack?"

"Yeah, that's right," said Hogan. "But trust me, this isn't my normal routine."

Fleischer moved back at the table. "I am going to make you talk, Colonel."

"I'm still unclear about what you want," said Hogan.

"The rest of your men," exclaimed Fleischer angrily. He slammed a fist onto the table to emphasize his fury. "I want the three men who escaped my grasp."

"Three," asked Hogan warily.

"Yes, three," said Fleischer.

_Oh, no, Carter,_ thought Hogan. The screams from earlier came back into his mind, and he was filled with anguish and guilt. _I'm so sorry. Oh God, please…_

"I received word that your _Engländer_ is dead," said Fleischer, seemingly unaware of Hogan's inner turmoil.

"What," asked Hogan, confused. His heart began to race. "Where's Carter?"

"Who," asked Fleischer.

"The American who was here with me," asked Hogan quickly, trying to rip away from Mandel's grasp. "Did he escape?"

Fleischer looked at him for a moment and then smiled. "Oh, you thought I was talking about your three men who originally escaped. Well, no, that wounded puppy did get away. But your _Engländer_ is dead. So that leaves you with three men."

Hogan took a deep breath, glad to hear that Carter had made it away. But when he released it, the next horror struck him.

_Newkirk? DAMN IT! _

"You seem to be struggling with yourself, Colonel," said Fleischer. "Was that _Engländer_ important to you? You seem to be very protective of them. Well, that is going to help us all in the long run."

"If you want me to help you get my men—".

He was cut off when Fleischer punched him across the jaw.

"I know where they are," said Fleischer. "They are at the Bachmeiers'."

"The Bachmeiers'," repeated Hogan, digesting that piece of information. He felt calmer then, knowing they were in good hands. He looked up at Fleischer. "If you know where they are, why do you need me?"

"You care about your men very much, Colonel," said Fleischer. "So, I don't really expect you to do anything to get me to them. But, I was thinking, just now, actually, that if you care so much about them, then they must care a lot about you. Am I right?"

Hogan did not answer. He knew where Fleischer was going with this. Fleischer just nodded. Mandel slammed Hogan's head onto the table again. While his head was down, Mandel flipped out a knife, and brought it down between two of Hogan's fingers. Fleischer leaned over Hogan.

"Am I right," he asked.

"No," said Hogan. "They hate me."

Mandel pulled the knife out of the table, and yanked Hogan's head up. Before Hogan could even blink, Mandel pulled the knife along his cheek, forming a long, deep gash. Hogan wriggled his head away, as warm blood dripped down his cheek.

"Wrong answer," said Fleischer quickly. "But as long as you deny it, the more I know it's true. I am glad that is over with."

Hogan glared at me. "If you know so much, why bother?"

"Because I enjoy it," spat Fleischer.

"You're a monster," growled Hogan. "You're going to burn in hell. All of you!"

"Then we might as well enjoy it while we can," whispered Mandel in his ear. His breath whooshed by Hogan's ear, tickling it, and Hogan was thoroughly disgusted and tried to pull away. Mandel just laughed.

"That's okay," said Fleischer. "I was just gathering assurance. How about you listen to my plan, and we will see how well you think it is. After all, you, I hear, are very good at making plans."

()()()()()()

"BAH!"

Klink closed his eyes wearily, since that had been the fifth time Major Hochstetter had screamed his favorite word in his office today.

"Major," said Klink, as calmly as he could. "We have every available man out there looking for them. But there is not a sign."

"Oh, there is a sign," said Hochstetter. "The bridge."

"Why is _that_ a sign," began Burkhalter. "Why is is that you seem to believe that Hogan _always_ has something to do with any sabotage? Why, when it is not humanly possible for Colonel Hogan and his men to have escaped during the fire and gotten to the bridge in time to blow it up when the train was there?"

Hochstetter was momentarily stumped. "No matter, it is still a sign. It is confusion. And what more do POWs want when they need to escape? They had confusion here, and they used it. Out there, there was also confusion. What if they used that as well?"

"Enlighten us," said Burkhalter.

"They know of, or find out, that the sabotage takes place, and go that way, so that in the confusion, no one is looking for POWs, but saboteurs," explained the Major.

"But anything suspicious in the area will be reported," said Klink. "That makes no sense for those POWs to go that way, if they knew about the sabotage."

"Since when has Colonel Hogan ever done anything that made sense," asked Hochstetter. "These last two days reek of Colonel Hogan!"


	13. Is the End Really Coming?

**Chapter Thirteen: I****s ****the**** E****nd**** R****eally**** C****oming****?**

"Major Hochstetter, I only hope you know what you are doing."

Hochstetter turned around to face General Burkhalter, as they walked from Klink's office.

"Of course I do," replied Hochstetter coolly. "But General, should you not be more worried about what you are going to do?"

Burkhalter pressed his lips together tightly, showing his anger. "Major, worry about your plans. This is after all a joint problem. No German wants prisoners running freely to their country."

"No," said Hochstetter. "I was only thinking about how your superiors will react when they learn that the only escape proof prison you had left is no longer."

"It had to happen sometime," said Burkhalter casually. In reality, it was bothering him a lot. He knew that Herr Göring would not be happy to hear that LuftStalag 13 had lost its no-escape record. He would be even less happy to learn that Colonel Hogan, who had been a long time prize of the Luftwaffe, was gone. It was not only that he was a prize; it was that he had remained in custody for so long. Other important officers that had been caught had given the Luftwaffe a lot of trouble. Colonel Hogan, though he was suspected of causing a lot of trouble for the Germans, could always be accounted for. What mattered to Burkhalter the most was his own wellbeing, then the wellbeing of Germany, and then the wellbeing of the Thousand Year Reich. Presently, his wellbeing was on the verge of being damaged, and he no longer cared about anything else. Hogan would pay for his escape.

"Well," said Hochstetter. "Good luck to us all then." He smiled triumphantly and got into his car and drove off. Burkhalter was happy to be rid of him even though he knew that he would not be seeing the last of him. As soon as Hochstetter was out of the gate, Klink stepped out of his office.

"I am glad he is gone," said Klink. Klink knew than Burkhalter had no love for Hochstetter, and in fact a deep hatred for the Gestapo officer. Actually, it was no secret that everybody hated Major Hochstetter. And it was no secret that Hochstetter hated Colonel Hogan. _Wherever you are, Hogan, I hope you know what you are doing._

()()()()()()

Forrest opened the door, letting Olsen and Scotty in. Baker put the sink back in order and looked at them.

"Those tires don't look like they'll get him very far."

Olsen and Scotty smiled triumphantly. They pulled out the knives they had from their jackets, and put them in their respectful hiding spots.

"Always knew these little guys would come in handy," said Scotty.

"Hopefully they'll give the fellas a little more time before they have to deal with Hochstetter," said Forrest.

"I sure hope so," said Baker.

"Yeah," said Olsen. "Can you imagine what Hochstetter would do if he found that someone else had captured Colonel Hogan before him? He would throw a fit."

()()()()()()

"I won't do it."

"I had a feeling you would say that," said Fleischer. He patted Hogan's sore cheek, making the American wince. He chuckled. "_Ja_, I had a very good feeling that you would. So, I will up the stakes. You, as a commander, will understand the important of lives. You know, how many men die in all. If you do not do as I have just told you, I will go to Stalag 13, have your operation uncovered, and then have every man there shot as spies."

Hogan looked at him and glared. He opened his mouth to say something, but Fleischer cut him off.

"If you go to your men, then those at the camp will be spared. My goal will be fulfilled: your operation will be gone, you and your men will be gone."

Fleischer stood up from the chair. He waved Mandel over. Mandel finally released his hold on the back of Hogan's neck and walked around the table to stand beside Fleischer. Hogan flexed his neck, eyeing Mandel angrily. Mandel smiled cruelly, and spat on the ground. Fleischer chuckled again, and walked over to the door. He opened it. Johann was thrown into the room. He lay motionless on the floor. Hogan looked at him and then at Fleischer.

"I will leave you some time to think about it," said Fleischer. "And someone to discuss it with."

He began to leave the room.

"Wait," said Hogan. Fleischer looked back. "How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"How do you know that Newkirk is dead? Newkirk, the _Engländer_."

"Ah, yes. I have a man that is working with me that is in the Underground. He heard the news being delivered from the Bachmeiers' to Stalag 13."

"How do I know that you aren't lying?"

"Because I am not."

"That's bull. You just want me to believe that he is dead."

"Why would it matter? I just told you of my plan to kill your men. All I did was inform you that you would not see the _Engländer_ there because he was killed."

"How did he die?"

"The explosion on the bridge. He did not get away in time. At the Bachmeiers', Karl told your other men that the _Engländer_ had gone into a coma. He died later on in the night."

Hogan held Fleischer's gaze, trying to see if he was bluffing. But Fleischer had a point. He had no reason for telling him that Newkirk was dead other than just that.

"I guess you aren't lying then."

"_Nein_. And I am not lying to about what will happen if you cooperate or the alternative: what will happen if you do not cooperate."

With that, he left the room, slamming the door behind him. Hogan heard the door being locked. Not that it mattered. He was still attached to the table and chair. He certainly was not going anywhere.

It appeared that Johann was unconscious, because there was no movement from him. It was really too dark for Hogan to see him very well. The one bulb above the table had been left on, so that all he could see was the table. The rest of the room was in shadow. Having the chance to look around now, he noticed that it was completely bare. There was a window to his right, but it was shuttered from the inside. One, thin line of light came through the middle. Hogan looked at it longingly. Never before, had he felt so alone.

His men were out there, or what was left of them, most likely planning on how to free their Colonel. They would come, and he would have almost no control as to what would happen to them. Hogan was at a loss. He was terrified. How had it come to this? Where had he gone wrong? He couldn't think of how it had happened. He could hardly think rationally now, anyway. He calmed himself, trying to think again. He calmed himself by thinking of the people he loved. He had a sick feeling that he would not be seeing them again.

In his head, he saw visions of his past; everything that had been good. He could see his family: he and his brothers playing football with neighborhood friends; the whole family gathered around a table for a Christmas dinner; his childhood sweetheart leaning against the school building, looking more beautiful than ever. Then, he saw his command in England, always enjoying their time with one another: drinking at pubs; playing pranks on each other; causing chaos in the little English villages; solemnly going to bed after a long day.

Then, the visions changed to the faces of the volunteers who followed him with unwavering loyalty. There was Kinch, sitting at the radio, leaning back with a book that only he could understand. Always his right hand man… _and my best friend_…Kinch was always there for him. Kinch was clam and never letting his emotions get the better of him. Therefore, he could watch over everyone else' emotions for them, and keep them at bay. They were lucky to have Kinch. There was LeBeau at the stove, cooking away in that pot that all of their fingers had been in. He could see the passionate Frenchman shaking his ladle at them, yelling in French because they had stolen bites of food before dinner. In Newkirk's case, it was being hit with the ladle. LeBeau was fiery, but Hogan knew he was as loyal as they got. His passion was often deadly to those that were on the wrong side of it. Then, there was innocent Carter, who only wanted everyone to get along and work together. He appeared so harmless, but Hogan knew that when Carter got worked up, he was a good man to have watching your back. Always enthusiastic, Carter was a light to them all as they lived their 'dull' lives behind the barbed wire and guard towers. Hogan felt like he was knifing himself in the stomach when he thought that perhaps Carter would get killed because of him. He should be protecting him…all of them. They were so protective of each other; especially Carter. He could remember the nights when Carter was out alone, and Newkirk would be…_Newkirk._ Hogan blinked rapidly as tears built up in his eyes. He could see Newkirk playing cards at the table, wearing a 'cat got the cream' grin, and his suspicious, glinting eyes surveying the scene around him. Sadly, Hogan came to terms to the fact that he would never see that smile again, or hear that sarcastic and pessimistic voice that made Newkirk…Newkirk. The Englishman was always putting in his two bits, rousing the worst out of some people, and the best out of others. Fiercely loyal and protective at heart, he was a hardened man.

But there was no more Newkirk. Hogan suddenly realized that tears were rolling down his cheeks. But he didn't care. He felt that all he wanted to do now was cry. And he felt pathetic for it. Pathetic and horrible to not be able to do anything to help his men. He couldn't do anything to comfort them either. They cared for one another so much. He knew Carter must have been shocked to learn of Newkirk's death. Carter had been so sure that his best friend would be fine when he saw him again. LeBeau and Kinch might have been there when Newkirk had drawn his final breath. LeBeau would have been hovering over him, trying to keep him comfortable. And Kinch would have just watched, always calm, and trying to comfort LeBeau.

Hogan choked on a sob. Why? That was the million dollar question, wasn't it? Why did all the bad things happen? Hogan swallowed and sniffed. He wiped his face on his shirtsleeve. He had to stop. He had to move on now. There was a decision to make.

"Colonel? Are you crying?"

Hogan looked up from the table, and over at Johann, who had rolled over and was looking at him. Johann did not appear too badly hurt in the shadows.

Hogan looked at Johann. He had forgotten about him. "Would you die to save a thousand men?"

Johann looked at him oddly. "Why,_ ja_, of course. That is what we do in the Underground, no?"

Hogan nodded. "We're going to die for a thousand today."

Johann's eyes widened. He slowly and stiffly got up. He walked over to the table and leaned against it wearily.

"Tell me."

"Fleischer knows where my men are, and what kind of condition they are in. He told me what he wants. He just wants to stop our operation. To do that, he has concluded that he must execute all of us. So, to get the rest of my men, he wants to use me as bait, and then he will capture them when they come for me. Then, I will be allowed to contact the camp and tell my men there to scrap the operation."

Johann nodded. "Do you know how you are going to warn them that it is a trap?"

"Wait; there's more. He thinks that I will try something like that. So, he told me what would happen if he suspected something like that. He'll go to Stalag 13, and uncover the operation. Then, he will have everyone in the camp shot as spies. Johann, the only men that work on this operation are those in Stalag 13, and the occasional from another Barracks because we need an extra hand. I can't let Fleischer kill all those men when they a great more than half don't even know what we do."

Johann's jaw dropped. "You mean…you mean that you will go through with Fleischer's plan?"

"I didn't say that," snapped Hogan. "I'm just telling you everything he told me."

"So, what are you going to do? How are we going to get out of this?"

"I don't know."

"You do not know? We cannot just let your men walk into a trap. We cannot just let this man end your operation. How do we know that he will not go over and shoot all of your men anyway?"

"I don't know. But something tells me he won't. He just wants us."

"He could become the most famous man in Germany for uncovering you. You are Papa Bear! He would be promoted so well, he would skip about five grades. With all of that fame and power, why would he not do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe…maybe he has other plans. Maybe he doesn't want to become famous."

"What?"

"Think about it, Johann. Think about a person working undercover. They go around ending operations, but they don't become famous for it because they want to move onto the next job."

"You are telling me that he would not turn you in because he would want to move on to ending the next Underground unit he found?"

"Yeah. It makes sense."

"_Ja_, it does make sense. But we still do not know if it will be that way."

"I don't have anything else."

Johann looked at him for a long moment. "That is it? You are going to give up, just like that?"

"What do you propose I do?"

"Anything!"

Johann began to pace the room. He was furious with Colonel Hogan. How could the great Papa Bear give up like this?

"Well, do you have a way of getting me out of these chains and out of this place," asked Hogan, infuriated that this one agent would question him like this. "Do you have a secret radio so that I can call my men and tell them everything? Do you have connections around here? If you haven't noticed, Fleischer is holding all the cards! And the best ones too! This is it! We're dead men!"

Johann glared at him. "You can believe that if you want, but I will not. I think your men are better than that. They are smarter. They will know it is a trap. They will save themselves and the operation. They will leave us."

"No!" Hogan rattled the changes uselessly. "They won't! You don't understand; they won't leave me."

"So you are going to allow them to be killed? Is that what you were crying about?"

Johann regretted it as soon as it left his mouth. He looked at Hogan, trying to look tough and hard, but failing. He saw the hurt in Hogan's eyes, before the American could expertly mask it. Hogan locked his jaw in anger, and gritted his teeth.

"If I had a way out I would use it," he was speaking in a deadly whisper. Johann felt his anger and boldness melting away. "How do you think I feel? Do you think I'm going to enjoy watching my men get killed? One of them is already dead, damn it! That's why I was crying. Newkirk's dead!"

Johann raised his eyebrows in surprise. Sadness crept into his eyes and expression. "I'm…I'm sorry, Colonel. I…" He paused and began to look suspicious. "How do you know?"

"Fleischer told me. He has a man planted in the Underground. Newkirk died in the night."

They fell into silence. The tension left the room, as both men's anger turned to bitter exhaustion. Johann sat against the wall, and winced. Hogan noticed.

"What did they do to you," he asked. "I heard…"

"They took the bullet out," answered Johann. "Just not in any gentle way."

"Oh."

More silence. Hogan closed his eyes wearily, and leaned back in the chair.

"I am sorry Colonel Hogan."

Hogan opened his eyes and looked at Johann. The German continued. "I am sorry that you lost Newkirk. He was a good man. I felt his loss the first time…you know…but I suppose this time, it is for real. I am sorry about what I said as well. I know you care about your men very much. They are lucky to have someone like you watching over them."

"I'm not watching over them anymore. They're going to be dead because of me."

"It feels like we are switching roles. But I must remind you, war has a lot of sacrifices."

"You don't have to remind me."

"All I am saying, Colonel, is that you are right. I do not like it anymore than you do. But five men can die to save a thousand. That is our job."

Hogan sighed. "You know, whenever we had to go on some kind of suicide mission, I always told them that they could back out of it. I reminded them that we were volunteers. I told them that I was the only one who had to take orders. Sometimes, they jumped right up and told me that they were with me. Other times, it took them longer for them to come around. Newkirk was always the last. He used to say 'There's no law against being a coward.' Now, he's gone. And now, my men don't have the chance to back out of it. They're going to die, and they won't even know what's going on."

Johann heard the raw emotion in the other man's voice.

"Colonel, you can explain it to them on the other side. I am sure that they will understand."

"Are you sure that I'll make it on the other side. Because I feel like I'm playing God. It feels horrible."

"You are saving a thousand men, Colonel. Not every man on this planet does that. Not even in such a big war like this. When you get to the gates, you can just tell St. Peter that, and no doubt he will open them up for you."

There was a silence, and then Hogan chuckled.

"What," asked Johann.

"For a moment…" Hogan laughed some more. "For a moment…when you said Peter, I thought you meant Newkirk…ha, ha…Newkirk a saint…boy if that ever happened…". He broke off into laughter again.

Johann couldn't help but laugh some too. Both of them let the laughter drift off. Hogan leaned back and closed his eyes, as the chuckling died away. But it didn't completely. As his own drifted off, he could hear his men laughing. He saw them in the compound playing baseball. Running, playing, everything was perfect.

_Ye never know, Guv'nor. Anythin' could 'appen these days._

Hogan's eyes snapped open. He smiled.

"Colonel?"

"You're right; they'll understand. Even St. Peter." He smiled bigger. "My St. Peter."


	14. The Gestapo Thinks Rhetorically

**Chapter Fourteen: T****he**** G****estapo**** T****hinks**** R****hetorically**

"Pull over here," ordered Major Hochstetter. The driver, a young Käpitan Bauer, quickly did as he was bid.

They both got out and surveyed the damage of their car. They were only five minutes away from Stalag 13. It had not taken them long to realize that there was something wrong with the car, but they thought maybe they could at least get to town. That would not be the case. Hochstetter bent down to examine the tires. He recognized the appearance of a slashed tire immediately. Someone had wanted to slow him down. He kicked the tire furiously.

"Come," he said. "We are going back to the camp."

He got into the back and slammed the door. Käpitan Bauer rolled his eyes wearily, but got in quickly. He started the engine up and turned the car back to Stalag 13 once again. Sometimes, he wished the war would end, solely because he no longer wanted to be around his Major.

()()()()()()

When the car rolled back into camp, alarm went through the prisoners. They were out, having been given an hour of recreation. They were still confined to barracks otherwise. Olsen and Scotty were throwing the football close to the _Kommandantur. _They backed out of the way for the car to park beside General Burkhalter's. They watched with some other prisoners as Hochstetter got out of the car angrily. He saw the prisoners watching him.

"What? You have seen me here enough times before! If you have a problem with it, take it up to with your Colonel Hogan!"

He turned back to the _Kommandantur_ and started up the stairs when he heard a remark that stopped him dead in his tracks.

"We would, but he's too busy making a fool of you."

Hochstetter was not meant to hear it, but it had not been said low enough. He whirled around, as the prisoners were walking away snickering. His eyes fell on one, and he glared.

"You!" He pointed at Scotty.

"Me?" Scotty looked around. "Yes, me. Um…something you need from me, Major."

"I saw you next to my car before I left," said Hochstetter. He walked down the steps quickly and came to nose to nose with Scotty. Scotty took a step back.

"Sir?"

"You—were—by—my—car–before–I–left ," said Hochstetter, with emphasis on each word. "Is that slow enough for you, _Amerikaner?_"

"Fine, sir," said Scotty. "And I was. You see, my ball had gone under your car, and I was getting it out. I had to do it quickly because you came storming out of there pretty quick. You looked angry, too, but I—".

"Shut up" bellowed Hochstetter. "You are almost as bad as Klink." He grabbed Scotty by the collar and started pulling him forward. But there was suddenly a strong grip on his arm. He looked back. A Negro man was staring down at him.

"I am going to have to ask you to not manhandle my men like that," said Baker sternly.

Hochstetter gripped Baker's wrist and removed his hand off his arm. He also let go of Scotty. Scotty straightened his jacket, and took a step back to stand beside Baker. Olsen stepped up on the other side of Scotty, and the rest of the prisoners gathered there took a step closer to form a semicircle around Baker, Scotty, and Olsen. Hochstetter warily took a step back, but showed no fear.

"That will not go unpunished, _Schweinhund,_" he said, looking at Baker sternly. "I will commend your wishes, but I will also remind you that you are not to harm a German officer in any way."

"Oh, did I _harm_ you," asked Baker, with a raise of his eyebrows. "If I did, my apologies." The prisoners might have all laughed, if they were inside, joking around. "I always thought that the Gestapo was tougher than that."

That was the last straw for Hochstetter's almost uncontrollable anger. He lashed out at Baker, backhanding him across the face, and then punching him in the gut before he could react. Baker stumbled backwards some, into the prisoners, who immediately crumbled around him. They began to yell furiously, and push back at Hochstetter. They just pushed him away, though. They didn't want to have him unleash more anger on one of them. The guards ran over, firing shots into the air. The prisoners collapsed to the ground as one, and Hochstetter stepped back with a triumphant smile. The guards surrounded the prisoners, with their rifles pointed down at them. Schultz came bumbling over, just as Klink and Burkhalter hurried out of the office.

"What is going on out here," asked Burkhalter. "Major Hochstetter, what are you doing back?"

Hochstetter turned to the General. "These men,"—he said viciously, pointing his fingers down at the prisoners—"sabotaged my car."

"That's impossible," cried Klink.

"Klink, shut up," said Burkhalter.

"Yes, sir, shut up," replied Klink.

Burkhalter rolled his eyes and looked back at Hochstetter. "Explain yourself."

Hochstetter hated to explain anything to anyone. He felt that he had no reason to. But he was a Major, and a General was ordering him. He had no choice.

"All of my tires are flat," he said. "Every one of them…even the spare! It was not like that before I entered this camp, which means someone here did it. I saw one of the men near my car just before I left. It had to be him."

"You sound really sure, _Major,_" sneered Baker. The prisoners were cautiously getting up, while the guards kept their rifles on them.

"Sergeant," said Klink. "Do not speak that way to your superiors. And what happened to your face."

Baker's lip was bleeding, and his cheek was already swelling.

"Major Hochstetter struck me sir," Baker replied, looking only at Klink. "He was manhandling one of the men, and I was only doing my duty in reminding him that we prisoners can't be touched without good reason—".

"I had good reason," snapped Hochstetter. "Suspicion is all I need."

"Major," said Burkhalter sternly. "You may be used to having suspicion as your cause to interrogate, but not here in a POW camp. These men are protected under the Geneva Conventions. You must have a really good reason."

"I do," said Hochstetter. He looked at Baker. "And when I get the evidence I need, you will all pay for it."

"Good luck," said Olsen, rather happily, as if he was encouraging a friend.

The prisoners chuckled, and Baker barely hid a smile.

"BAAAAH," yelled Hochstetter. He turned around and glared at Klink. "I need four new tires. Get your men to do it!"

"My men are—" began Klink, but he was cut off by Burkhalter.

"Klink, just do it. The Major needs to leave quickly," said Burkhalter, looking down at Hochstetter annoyingly.

"_Jawohl, Herr General_," said Klink. He began to order the guards to work. The prisoners left quickly, retreating back to their barracks. Schultz herded them back inside.

"I would say it is best for you to stay inside," said Schultz.

Baker was about to reply when they stopped and heard Hochstetter again, ranting at the guards who were replacing the tires.

"BAAAH! You are all as incompetent as your Kommandant!"

Schultz rolled his eyes and looked at the prisoners. "He sounds like a goat. Or maybe a lamb."

The prisoners roared with laughter. Schultz shook his head and walked off. "I do not get paid enough for this job."

()()()()()()

Hochstetter watched the men work on the car for a moment, before he stormed into Klink's office after Burkhalter. Klink was left outside, to keep his men going.

"Major, you must control yourself," said Burkhalter. "Have you ever thought that maybe if the prisoners did do something of the sort, they were only playing a practical joke?" He walked to the window and looked outside. "They live in a miserable existence. I would think they are merely enjoying their afternoon. After all, things have been very tight around here these past two days."

"_Herr General_, with all the respect, I do not agree," said Hochstetter. "They knew I was going after Colonel Hogan, so they sabotaged my car to slow me down."

Burkhalter turned around. "Major, I want you to put yourself in the prisoners' position. If you could escape, would you?"

"Yes, of course," answered Hochstetter quickly, without realizing the trap.

"Would you ever return," asked Burkhalter.

"_Nein_," replied Hochstetter.

"Then why do you insist that Colonel Hogan and his men are saboteurs," asked Burkhalter. Hochstetter momentarily pouted when he realized his mistake in answering the questions. The General continued. "And before you go on to tell me that these men were planted here, let me remind you that Colonel Hogan was shot from the sky as the commander of the 504th, and he was intensely interrogated by the Gestapo for quite some time, before becoming an official prisoner of war. And his men, on your insistence, have also been checked for any suspicious gaps in their prisoner records, and I can assure you that each and every one of them were not planted here. They are as true POWs as they come. Two days ago, they found a way to escape, and took it. There is nothing more to tell."

He turned back to look outside the window. "Your car is almost ready."

Hochstetter was glaring at Burkhalter's head. "Sir, if I could ask _you_ a few rhetorical questions?"

Burkhalter turned around. "Go on."

"If you were taken prisoner of war by the English," began Hochstetter. "And you somehow found a way to sabotage the English from inside your prison camp without being detected, would you stay and do it?"

"_Ja_," said Burkhalter. "A very good question. Now, I do not mean anything by this, but I for one, believe that the English are not that stupid or clueless. I believe that it would be impossible."

"Most would, _Herr General_," said Hochstetter. "But I do not. We both agree that Colonel Hogan is intelligent and cunning, do we not?"

"We do," assured Burkhalter.

"Right," said Hochstetter. "And I have never met a prisoner of war in all of Germany who is that clever and untamed. If anyone could pull it off, it would be him. And if any Kommandant was dumb enough not to detect it, it would be Klink."

"Where do I fit in," asked Burkhalter.

Hochstetter paled slightly.

"Let me finish it for you," said Burkhalter. "And if there were any General lousy enough to allow Klink as Kommandant, it would be me." He chuckled at Hochstetter's cautious expression. "But you forgot the last line. If there was any Gestapo agent that could be fooled and duped by these saboteurs, it would be Major Hochstetter."

He looked out the window again.

"Your car is ready," he said.

Hochstetter was fuming now. He clicked his heels and saluted. "Heil Hitler." He left, nearly bowling over Klink as he stormed out of the room. The walls shook when he slammed the door.

In the car, he pushed _Käpitan_ Bauer over into the passenger seat.

"_Herr Major_," asked Bauer worriedly.

"Keep quiet," barked Hochstetter. He started the engine, and they rushed out of camp and down the road.

They drove for awhile, going straight through Hammelburg and passing up Gestapo headquarters. Bauer watched it go by, and then looked back at Hochstetter.

"_Herr Major_," said the Käpitan cautiously.

"_Ja_," snapped Hochstetter, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Where are we going," asked Bauer.

"I was thinking rhetorically, and decided that something must have gone wrong with Colonel Hogan and his men because they were not back at camp by now."

Bauer had become used to his Major's thoughts about the infamous American. It was a common subject in the office, since Hochstetter was bent on uncovering Colonel Hogan's secrets, if he had any. Bauer knew better than to say anything against it, so sometimes he threw in his own two bits. This was not the time to, he decided.

"_Ja, Herr Major_," said Bauer. "It makes sense."

"Of course it does," replied Hochstetter sharply.

Bauer looked back out the window, and dared to continue. "You still did not tell me where we are going, _Herr Major_."

Hochstetter looked at his aide, and smirked at Bauer. "You amuse me _Käpitan._ We are going to _Scheunenstraße._ You are familiar with it?"

Bauer looked at Hochstetter. "_Ja._ But what is there? It is all farms."

_Scheunenstraße_ was a road. The name literally meant "road of barns". All along it were old farms that had belonged to the same families for generations. The road wound through the countryside, coming up alongside the railroad for a bit, and then over the _Schluckt Flüsschen,_ a river in which the railroad passed over.

"Exactly," said Hochstetter. "And where would escaped POWs go to hide?"

Bauer raised his eyebrows, and smiled. "You know, Major, that _Scheunenstraße _ eventually runs up against the railroad?"

Hochstetter smiled. "_Käpitan_, you are becoming very good at this."

But Bauer seemed troubled. "_Herr Major_… I suppose it is hard to imagine that such a sabotage group could survive here, in the middle of Germany, but I must say…what you say, it fits."

"I am glad you are finally beginning to see," said Hochstetter. He clapped a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Keep thinking. Two heads are better than one, so they say."

Bauer smiled uncomfortably, but could not help but feel elated at the sort of acceptance he was receiving from his Major. It made Hochstetter seem, well, more human for one. He looked back outside the window, as they left Hammelburg and came out onto the countryside.

Suddenly, Bauer was struck with an idea.

"Herr Major," he said, excitedly. "I know it!"

"Know what," asked Hochstetter quickly. "Know what?"

"There is an old cabin," said Bauer. "My father took me hunting one time, and showed it to me. It has always been uninhabited, but sometimes hunters use it to spend a night in. It is behind the road, and near a few farms. I would think nothing of it except that is off the river. It gets its water supply from there. Also, reading the reports from last month, I noticed that there have been a lot of people spotted around there. They always say they are hunting. But Major, the season has been warmer than most for so early. The deer are not out as much. Also, the food has been plentiful. There is no need to hunt, and a good hunter would know the deer are not moving as much. Major, I bet that that cabin is being used by the Underground. It's got to be a safe house or something."

Bauer looked at Hochstetter excitedly. Hochstetter was studying him. Then, the Major smiled.

"How do we get there?"


	15. Two Prisoners

**Chapter Fifteen: T****wo**** P****risoners**

Kinch rubbed his eyes tiredly, and pulled the headphones off his head. _Even outside of camp, I'm underground. _ He was once again down in the cellar of the Bachmeiers'. He had just finished talking with Baker on the radio. He reported that Hochstetter was on a rampage. They had tried to stall him by cutting his tires, but apparently that backfired when he came back into camp and got the tires changed quickly. They had listened in on a conversation between Burkhalter and Hochstetter, and it was clear that Hochstetter was thinking them out.

Kinch knew this meant that they were running out of time to get Colonel Hogan and Johann back. If Hochstetter found them in this mess, he knew that they would all be shot without question. He knew they had to at least get Colonel Hogan out of trouble, remove their adversary, and then come up with a good reason as to why they were out of camp, all before Hochstetter got onto them. It would be near impossible. Of course, everything they did was considered near impossible, and they had always come through. Kinch was determined not to deter from the mindset that had kept them alive.

He got up and left the cellar, once more returning to a house that seemed asleep and depressed. LeBeau was catching some sleep on the couch. Pepin had relieved his brother on sentry duty, and was out there with the three men who had escorted Carter to the farm. Franz had retired upstairs to get himself some much needed sleep. Analiese, who did not appear at all tired, was in the kitchen preparing a meal for all of her guests. Karl, also going steady even though he had been up since they arrived, was in the guest bedroom, checking up on Carter and Newkirk. Carter was out in a heavy sleep, and Newkirk was still in his fatal coma. Kinch stared at the guest bedroom door for a moment, and then went and sat down in a chair in the den. The fire was down to giving off a bit of smoke. There were not even any coals that were hot. Kinch laid his head back against the chair, and let his body completely relax. No more than a few seconds later, he found himself slipping into a welcomed sleep.

He could hear Analiese bustling around in the kitchen quietly, and LeBeau softly snoring. He heard the guest bedroom door open and shut gently. He heard Karl walk to the kitchen, the floorboards of the old house creaking with each step. Kinch wanted to ask him how Carter and Newkirk were, but by then, he could not find the energy to even open his eyes. He was just drifting off, when suddenly, the side door was bust open, and there was a great ruckus.

Kinch jumped up, his adrenaline high when the loud noise snapped him out of his deep daze. LeBeau rolled off the couch, pulling his gun. They looked into the kitchen and saw none other than Geoff Krieger, the traitor. Even though he was being held by the two Underground men, he was still struggling. His hands were bound with rope, but he continually pulled on them. But when he saw Kinch and LeBeau jump up, he froze, and his eyes went wide with terror. Everyone else could only look on as Kinch and LeBeau rushed into the kitchen. Geoff started to back up, but Kinch was too quick. He slammed his fist into Geoff's nose. Blood began to spew onto the kitchen floor.

There was a stunned silence in the kitchen. Kinch was breathing heavily, just the traitor's presence making him furious. Everyone watched Kinch worriedly. Pepin came into the house with Ambros and looked around.

"What's going on," he asked.

LeBeau holstered his gun and walked up to Kinch. "You were too quick for me, _mon ami_."

Kinch looked down and took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. He looked at the two Underground men who had captured him. "Take him down into the cellar, and stay there until I come down."

"Certainly," said the older man, with obvious pride.

Geoff looked at Kinch worriedly. "Wait a minute, you do not understand. I am trying to help you."

"You 'ave 'elped enough, filthy _Boche_," spat LeBeau. "Get 'im out of 'ere."

They pulled him away, he began to talk again, but one of his captors stuck a handkerchief in his mouth. Kinch watched them go, before sinking into a chair at the table. Analiese quickly grabbed some towels and walked over to where the blood was on her floor.

"What were you thinking, young man," she asked. She looked up at Kinch with a look that reminded him quickly of his mother. "You could have at least waited until you were in the cellar. This blood could have stained my floors."

Since she reminded of his mother, Kinch suddenly felt guilty. "Sorry," he said softly. "But he's the reason we're in this mess."

"Hmph," said Analiese. She stood up and handed the bloody towels to the Ambros. "Make yourself useful and go burn these in the barn."

The large mean seemed to be irked that he was being picked for laundry duty, but the look on Analiese's face told him not to argue. So, he stomped out of the kitchen.

Analiese turned back to Kinch. "I will not tolerate that kind of behavior. You are better than that, and you know it. Louis, that goes for you as well. I know you are both angry, but remember that when we do things like that, we are not being the better people we are supposed to be. How can we fight for this horrible injustice to stop when we treat people just as badly? Remember that when you go to question this man. He seems to have cracked already, so be gentle."

"You know, _Mutter_," said Pepin. "Maybe you should go into the Hitler Youth and teach the kids that."

"Are you kidding," she asked. She went back to the stove and began to stir the soup in the pot. "They would not want me. They have gotten rid of us old women. We are too educated to teach those young children. We know too much."

Kinch thoughtfully got up and left the kitchen. LeBeau looked at Analiese once more and followed Kinch into the cellar.

Carter began to stir. He had dimly heard a loud noise, but could not place it. He wanted to drift off again to that peaceful oblivion, but found that he was already waking up. He wearily opened his eyes. He was lying in the bed next to Newkirk, having fallen asleep watching him. His neck and back ached some, since he had been leaning against the headboard for a good three hours or so now. He sat up straight, and he cracked his back and neck. He noticed that his knee had been re-bandaged. He slowly flexed it and winced as the pain stung him. He laid his leg back down on the bed.

He looked down next to him, where Newkirk appeared to be drifting off. Every time he looked, Carter felt like Newkirk was a step closer to death. He hoped it was just his mind playing tricks on him. He wasn't sure what was going to happen _if _Newkirk died. He wasn't even thinking about how they were going to explain it. He was thinking of how they…he…was going to cope with it. He had only lost one person really close to him before, and that was his grandmother. He felt that he had been so young though, and even though he had loved his grandmother so much, he had not had the relationship he had with his friends here. For too long, they had gone through so much, which had bound them together with unbreakable bonds of friendship. He wondered...if they could be broken with death.

He forced the thoughts out of his head. No. Newkirk was not going to die anyway. He was going to wake up. He had to. Carter sighed and placed a hand on Newkirk's chest. Through his shirt, he could feel his heart thumping away. _C'mon Peter._

()()()()()()

_ There was more than nothing now. There were those names, that he had nothing more to, but clung onto anyway. He knew they were important. Somehow, he knew that he must not let them go._

_ Andrew. Louis. Andrew. Louis._

_ He was fighting for something more, but felt like he was losing. Sometimes, he felt his grasp on the names begin to slip. But he refused. And each time he refused, he was left with less energy to hold on. _

_ Suddenly, he felt a spark in him. He felt like there was someone else there. Someone else hovering in this hole with him. He clung to that presence. As soon as he grabbed it, he could see something. It was a face. It was young. It was a boy…no…a man. He was smiling. _

_ Andrew._

_ Another spark was felt. _

_ Now, he had another reason to hold onto that name. He felt something telling him not to let the smiling man down. If he lost the name, he let the smiling down. If he lost the name, he lost everything._


	16. Unbreakable

**Chapter Sixteen: U****nbreakable**

Geoff heard the door being opened. He looked up, and was not surprised to see Kinch and LeBeau walking in. His guards held him tighter.

"You can let him go," said Kinch.

They released him reluctantly. Geoff relaxed into the chair.

"Go get some food and rest," said LeBeau to the two guards. "We will get back to you."

"Very well," said the older man. He knew that he had no say in this now. He and his companion left.

Geoff watched them go looking like a kid in kindergarten not wanting his mommy to leave him. He at least knew that those two were not going to beat him up. He just was not so sure of Colonel Hogan's men, who appeared to not be listening to any reasoning. He watched as they slowly approached him. The Negro man stopped in front of him, and stood with his legs apart and his arms crossed over his chest. Geoff first realized then how big and strong the Negro man was. He gulped. The little Frenchman, who was standing slightly behind and to the side of Kinch, smirked at Geoff's obvious discomfort.

"You need to explain yourself," said Kinch softly. Then, with his tone laced in malice, he added, "And if I think you're lying, you'll wish you had never learned to talk."

Geoff nodded quickly and nervously. "Certainly."

Kinch barely smiled. "Tell us why you are here. How did they capture you?"

Geoff swallowed and told them about his confrontation with his son, Colonel Hogan, and Carter. He told them how he felt about everything. Then, he told them about the escape attempt, and how he had gotten away with Colonel Hogan and Johann's help. This, Kinch and LeBeau were very unsure about, but Geoff appeared too scared to be lying. Still, he had tricked them before; he could be tricking them again. Geoff went on to explain how he had just been trying to get as far away as possible from the cabin when the two Underground agents found him. When he said that he was from the cabin, they didn't let him say anymore but took him into custody, obviously suspicious about him. He was careful to leave out nothing; not a single detail. He did not want to incur the two men's wrath at all. The whole time he talked, they listened quietly. They never interrupted him, which surprised him immensely. But they never appeared to relax either. They never moved. They just watched and listened. This scrutiny was unnerving to Geoff, but he didn't mind so long as they weren't beating him up. He tried to talk as long as he could, but eventually found that there was nothing to add to his story. When he finished, he looked at each of them expectantly.

Kinch was the first to move. He stood back, and then looked at Geoff for a moment.

"You're telling the truth," he stated.

"'Ow can you be so sure," asked LeBeau.

"Does he look like he would be lying," asked Kinch.

LeBeau looked back at Geoff, and then shook his head. "_Non._ But what do we do now?"

"We use him," replied Kinch. "Mr. Krieger, you know the cabin and the area around it, right?"

"_Ja_," replied Geoff quickly.

"Good," said Kinch. "You're going to tell me about every inch of the cabin. I want you to tell me all the doors and all the windows. I want you to tell me where the sentries were, and where people go most often."

"I will," said Geoff.

"Of course you will," said Kinch. "LeBeau, go get the Underground agents. They will all need to hear this too. Get Franz up as well."

"_Oui_," said LeBeau. He left.

Kinch looked at Geoff and watched him for a long moment. "Do you know what this Fleischer would do to Colonel Hogan after an escape attempt?"

Geoff shrugged. "I know he wanted your Colonel at least alive and well enough to being moving around."

"Why," asked Kinch.

Geoff looked down at the ground, and fidgeted with his jacket.

"Why," repeated Kinch, raising his voice.

LeBeau returned with the five Underground agents. "I woke Franz. 'E is coming."

Kinch just nodded and looked back at Geoff. "Why?"

"I am not supposed to know this," said Geoff, still not looking up at Kinch. "But I overheard. Fleischer…he wants to use your Colonel to get to you."

"That is absurd," cried LeBeau. "_Mon Colonèl_ would never do such a thing!"

"_Nein_," said Geoff, looking up quickly at LeBeau. "Not like that! He was not asking _Oberst_ Hogan to betray you. He was just going to use him as…as—".

"As bait," finished Kinch.

"_Ja_, as bait," trailed of Geoff. "Fleischer knows you are close. He knows you would come to save your Colonel, and even die trying. So, he was going to use your Colonel to bait you in. If your Colonel warns you, the men at the camp will be killed."

"They would be killed anyway," spat back LeBeau.

"_Nein_," said Geoff. "_Käpitan_ Fleischer does not want to kill all those men. He just means to shut down your operation. He says that killing all of the men at camp is too much work. He thinks…that just shutting down the operation is enough."

Kinch and LeBeau exchanged confused looks. Then, Franz came in.

"Something wrong," he asked. No one said anything.

"You mean," asked LeBeau. "That if he just killed us, and then we got the men to shut down the operation, no one would be turned in, or executed at the camp?"

"Exactly," said Geoff. "And Fleischer has never broken a promise."

"Did he make a promise to the Underground," cried one of the agents.

"_Nein_," countered Geoff strongly, surprising everyone. "_Nein_, he never did. The only promise he made regarding sides was a promise to the Fatherland…and Hitler."

"Now what," asked LeBeau.

"He doesn't know we know this," said Kinch. "That's an advantage to us."

"How do we use it," asked Franz.

"I think I know what we'll do," said Kinch. "But it'll have to work out perfectly, or someone will end up dead." He looked at all the Underground agents.

"It's volunteers only. No one will think any less of you if you choose to go home. I know you have families and other lives. There is nothing wrong with going back to them."

Everyone was silent. Then, the older man stepped forward. "I will give my life to free Colonel Hogan and to get rid of a traitor." This seemed to decide it for the rest of the men. Kinch looked at Franz.

"You know where my family and I stand in this," said Franz. "We will follow you."

"Thank you," said Kinch. He looked at LeBeau. "Louis?"

"Let us 'ear this plan of yours, _mon ami_," said the little Frenchman. "I am sure it will give _mon Colonèl_ a run for his money."

()()()()()()

"Ugh. Why, of all times, must it begin to downpour now?"

Hochstetter stared up at the dark grey sky from his car. An early spring thunderstorm had seemingly come from nowhere in the afternoon. It had been down pouring for about an hour now, and was turning the roads into mush. The storm was a bad one as well, with bad lighting and large gusts of wind. It was no weather to be searching the woods in.

"I suppose you could say the fates are against us this afternoon," said Bauer.

Hochstetter glared at his aide. Bauer looked away and out his own window.

"If I do not capture Hogan and his men because of a thunderstorm, heads will roll," growled Hochstetter.

Bauer swallowed, dearly hoping that his head would not be one of them. Of course, it never helped when you were always by the man. Maybe he should not have mentioned the little cabin. Things might have gone better for himself. He was regretting ever helping the Major at all now.

Suddenly, as they came on a turn in the road, they began to skid sideways. Hochstetter pulled the wheel to turns and slammed on the breaks instinctively. But the tires locked up, and they began to skid faster. They were going to skid right off the road! Bauer grabbed the door with one hand and braced himself against the dashboard with the other. Hochstetter fought the wheel some more, but realized it was futile. He braced himself as well. Then, Bauer's eyes went wide with terror when he saw that they were going to hit a tree. The last thing he saw was the tree coming straight for him.

()()()()()()

Analiese looked out the kitchen window as the rain continued to fall. She was glad that they were finally getting rain, because it felt like forever since they had seen such precipitation other than snow. However, she worried the heavy rainfall would tamper with the plans of the Underground agents that were in her house. They had been down in the cellar for over an hour now. Pepin was still outside somewhere, keeping watch over the house. Karl had finally retired to his bed to get some sleep. Analiese was very ready to get to sleep as well, but she still had work to do. The dinner was finally ready, but it seemed that no one was going to be eating as of right now. Well, none of those at work. So, she made two bowls of stew and went into the guest bedroom. There, she found Carter keeping vigil over Newkirk.

"Ah," Analiese said when she came in. "I am glad you are awake. I made some beef stew. I thought, since everyone else is at work that I would eat dinner in here with you."

"Oh, thanks," said Carter. "Always good to have company at a meal."

Analiese handed Carter's bowl to him, and then pulled up a chair on his side of the bed, and began to eat her stew. After only one sip, Carter gave his enthusiastic thoughts as to how good the stew was. They ate in silence. Carter realized he was hungrier than he would have cared to admit, so he was quiet as he devoured the food. When he was through, he praised it some more.

"What did you do before the war Andrew," asked Analiese.

Carter looked at her oddly; the question was random. But he shrugged it off. "I was just going to school, like any kid would do."

"Of course," said Analiese. "I forget how young you are."

"I feel older," admitted Carter.

"Most do in times like these," responded Analiese. "Some have responsibility not greatness thrust upon them. Shakespeare forgot to mention that that is what happens first."

"Well, then how do you get the greatness," asked Carter.

"Once you take the responsibility and use it well and with purpose," responded Analiese.

"I guess so," said Carter. "But then sometimes, even if you try really hard, you still don't get greatness."

"Greatness is in the eye of the beholder," said Analiese.

"Ya know," said Carter. "You're pretty wise."

"No," said Analiese. "I am old. I would be stupid if I did not know these things. I would have to be blind and deaf and dumb not to see it."

"But there are people your age all around the world that act completely opposite of you," said Carter.

"Well," said Analiese. "You do not have to be literally blind and deaf and dumb. You can choose to be. God always shows us both sides of the road, Andrew. It is always left up to us, though, as to which one we want to follow. It can be harder for some, but that only makes them stronger when they come to the end."

Carter swallowed. "I've never been too big on God. Not since the war."

"Do you believe in him," asked Analiese.

"Yes," answered Carter quickly. He paused. "I want to. I did when I was at home. But now…"

"It is easier to believe during peace," said Analiese. "It is easier to believe when we have everything we want around us. The test is to believe when you have nothing and there looks like there is no more hope in the world."

"That would certainly be now," said Carter with a grim smile.

"_Ja_," said Analiese. "It would." She smiled. "You know, during the Great War, I fought God the whole time. I could not understand why so much destruction and death could be happening and there be a merciful God up there. I lost a lot, and it never got better, or so it seemed. But then, I realized that the war had brought me a husband, and with him, two wonderful boys."

"This is going to sound really weird," said Carter. "But it's so true." He lowered his voice, as if he was telling a dangerous secret. "Sometimes, I'm happy the war came. If not, I would have never met all these people. I would've never been trusted like I am. I would've never been able to prove myself to others. And there are other things too. Kinch and Baker, and a lot of other Negro men would've never been treated like such an equal. And Newkirk may have always lived on the streets as a thief, and maybe he would've gone worse off. Things like that you know. I think, sometimes, the war got people help, even though they didn't realize it."

"Andrew," said Analiese. "You are becoming wise too."

"I guess that means I'm not blind, deaf, or dumb," he replied boyishly.

Analiese chuckled. She stood up and pulled a blanket up over Newkirk's chest. "It gets colder in the house when it rains so early in the spring," she explained.

"You think he'll make it," asked Carter.

"He has made it this far," said Analiese. "He is fighting, that is for sure."

"He always does," said Carter softly. "He's really stubborn. Actually, I think he got wise too. He just won't ever let anyone know. He's too proud."

"A proud and stubborn man can be good at times," said Analiese. "For right now, it is well. But remember, they are also vices. It is better to be humble and open."

"That's what he has me for," said Carter. "And I have him to be proud and stubborn. Together, we're unbreakable. I think, even in death."


	17. Plans Running

**Chapter Seventeen: P****lans**** r****unning**

_The cell door opened. Newkirk didn't bother getting up from the cot. He didn't care who was coming to talk to him. The cell door shut, and the guard…Schultz, yeah that was his name, the great tub of lard that called himself a Sergeant, walked off. _

_ "Hello, Corporal."_

_ Great, it was that big shot American with the eagles. He had probably come to talk to him about morale or something like that. He didn't look at the Colonel._

_ "'Ello."_

_ "I just wanted to let you know that I talked to your friend, and he's sorry he ever said what he did. He wanted me to tell you that he would never willingly abandon you."_

_ "That's great. Tell 'im that I decided to stick around too."_

_ "Why don't you tell him that?"_

_ "Well, 'e's there, an' I'm 'ere, an' I'm not likely to get out o' 'ere for another twenty-nine days. Any other reasons I should give you?"_

_ There was a silence, and Newkirk was sure he was going to be chewed out. _

_ "Actually, you can tell him tomorrow morning. I got Kommandant Klink to let you out on the account that you would only be worse after thirty days in the cooler." _

_ Newkirk's brows furrowed together, and he sat up and faced the American._

_ "Wot? You got the Kommandant to let me out o' 'ere? 'Ow in the bloody 'ell did you work that?"_

_ The American Colonel chuckled at the Newkirk's surprise. _

_ "Really, he's an easy customer. He's all ego, and is scared out of his wits about his superiors. If he thought you were gonna really escape, he'd let you do anything."_

_ Newkirk almost smiled. _

_ "Oh…well thanks…sir."_

_ He lay back down on the cot. He expected the Colonel to leave, but he didn't, and they remained in silence for another minute until Newkirk couldn't handle it anymore. He sat up and faced the Colonel again._

_ "Do you need somethin', sir," he asked, as respectively as he could._

_ The Colonel shook his head. _

_ "No, I was just thinking," he said. "About you and…and your friend."_

_ "LeBeau," said Newkirk sharply. "An' wot about us."_

_ "Well," said the Colonel, becoming more serious. He paused and took a few steps towards the sink, which was clean because it was new. He fiddled with it, and found that it didn't really work though. "You see, obviously you two have been prisoners for a long time."_

_ "Since Dunkirk," Newkirk informed him._

_ "Right," said the Colonel. "That's two years. And I wonder, and don't take this the wrong way, but I'm scared I'll end up like you two."_

_ Newkirk raised his eyebrows, shocked. "You're scared?" He shook his head, becoming expressionless again. "I mean…you just think after bein' locked away for two years, you might end up off your crackers like me an' Louie?" _

_ "Not off your crackers," said the Colonel. "But will I ever try to kill myself?"_

_ "I can't answer that, sir," said Newkirk. "Maybe if we find somethin' to preoccupy ourselves for the next two years, an' we don't stare at the wire for too long, we won't go crazy again. 'Owever, when you're in a POW camp, there isn't much else to do." He smacked his lips and pulled out a cigarette. "That's just me personal advice."_

_ "Advice? I didn't hear any advice. I heard a warning."_

_ "Take it," said Newkirk. "Jerry don't give much o' any warnin'. If you 'aven't noticed."_

()()()()()()

Colonel Hogan awoke with a start. His head shot up from the table, where it had been resting between his hands, which were still restrained to the table. He looked around; trying to figure out what had woke him up. But Johann was back on the floor, leaning against the wall, sound asleep. Against the window, there was the sound of hard rain, and outside, thunder. Maybe that was what had woke him up. Then, he remembered the dream. Why had he been dreaming about the first time he and Newkirk had really talked? That made no sense to him. Why should he be reminded that he and the corporal had not started off very well? He sat backing the chair and stared up at the ceiling. He thought about that day, which had only been their fifth in Stalag 13. It felt so ages ago. They had come so long since then, all of them.

He thought back to the conversation, thinking about what Newkirk had told him. _Jerry don't give much o' any warnin'._ It was echoing in his head.

Suddenly, the door was rattled open. Johann woke up groggily and watched as Fleischer, Mandel, and the angry pair of Decker and Berg. Johann looked at Hogan worriedly. Something was about to happen to them.

"Decker, Berg," said Fleischer. "Take this man out and get rid of him." He pointed to Johann.

Johann's eyes went wide, and he skirted away from Decker and Berg made their way to him. They grabbed him by the arms and yanked him up. Hogan pulled against his chains in alarm.

"Wait! Wait! What are you doing," he yelled.

"Colonel Hogan," said Fleischer. "Settle down. We do not need him anymore. Why have him wasting your air in here?"

"No," cried Hogan. "You can't! I mean, why would you take the bullet out and save him if you didn't need him later on?"

Everyone stopped and looked at Fleischer; good question. Fleischer scowled at Hogan.

"I do not have to explain myself to you, Colonel Hogan," he said disgustedly. Mandel went around and grabbed Hogan by the back of the neck. "And if I were you, I would mind your own business."

"This is my business," said Hogan. "He and I work together."

"Yeah, yeah," said Fleischer. "But to me, it is not your business because he does not work at Stalag 13. We can dispose of him and it will not hurt my plan any. You are the bait, Colonel. Not him."

Decker and Berg resumed leaving the room. Hogan racked his brain for any ideas.

"Wait," he yelled again.

Berg and Decker stopped again. Fleischer glared at them.

"Who do yo take orders from, me or him," he demanded. They fled the room. Fleischer looked back to Hogan. "Continue."

"Look," said Hogan. "You may have everything figured out about what to do with me and my men, and the men at Stalag 13, but what about the Underground? Do you really think they're just going to lie down and take this? Furthermore, they won't be so worried about us anymore. They'll be furious about Johann if he gets killed. He's a civilian. The Underground have always been more concerned about their own people than us. How are you gonna explain Johann's death in the first place? After all, he's expected to show up places. If he doesn't, people will ask questions, and somebody is gonna have to answer."

"Not me," said Fleischer.

"Yes, you," corrected Hogan. "When the Gestapo does an investigation on all of this, they'll find out about you and your men. I mean, you've been missing a few days now, too, right? You don't think someone's not gonna put two and two together? Someone like, oh, maybe Major Hochstetter?"

"Major Hochstetter is a fool," said Fleischer. "He always had you and your men, and he always let you go."

"Actually," said Hogan. "He may have had us, but we let ourselves go. He was always in the wrong place at the wrong time, and surrounded by the wrong people. He's not an idiot. If he was, I wouldn't respect the danger he presents like I do. Surely you can understand that."

"Oh, I do," said Fleischer. "I respect you, and the danger you present, do I not?"

"Yeah, well you underestimated me at first, didn't you," muttered Hogan with a grin.

Mandel slammed his head down on the table again, putting Hogan in a daze.

"Maybe I did," said Fleischer. "But there is one thing that is very true right now: you are here, and your men are coming for you."

With that, they left the room. Right before Fleischer shut the door, he looked back at Hogan.

"And your friend the traitor is going to be killed," he said. Then he shut the door.

Hogan sagged against the chair. One again, he had failed to protect someone. Once again, they would pay the horrible price, and not him. How much longer of this?

()()()()()()

Decker and Berg escorted Johann from the cabin. It was pouring down raining and thundering loudly. He wondered if he would get killed from being struck by lightning around all these trees. The sentries he spotted seemed worried about their safety, as well. He was led further into the woods, away from the cabin. He was expecting to die by either two ways: he would be shot, point blank; or he would find a way to try and escape, and just get shot while running. He was hoping for the latter, because it would make him feel better right now, to just run.

They led him into the woods, on the edge of a steep hill. They forced him onto his knees. Looking down the hill, he could see a little stream running, running faster because it was filled with more water from the rain. He looked around the woods, noticing how beautiful they looked, in this early spring evening. Despite the wrathful weather, he could still see the green leaves and the just-blooming flowers at the base of the trees. He could tell that the spring would be good. This was better than dying in the cold snow. He was not very fond of the German winters, even though he had grown up in them. No, spring was his favorite season because it was just perfect. Thunderstorms weren't all that great, unless you were inside. He would have to just live with that, though. Or die with it.

Suddenly, a gunshot was heard. Johann tensed, believing that that was it, he was dead. He squeezed his eyes shut, but felt no pain. He wondered if maybe that was it. It had already happened, and that quickly, it was over.

Then, there was another near strike of lighting, and a startling clap of thunder. Johann's eyes flew open. The first thing he saw was an enormous tree falling to the ground down the hill. He watched, mesmerized by its bulk, and then heard the crash of it as it fell to the ground. Then, he looked around. He nearly jumped up, when he saw Berg lying beside him, a bullet in the back of his head. He spun around.

Decker was standing over him, his pistol in his hand, hanging by his side. He was looking at Johann.

"Run," he said.

"What," asked Johann.

"Run," said Decker nervously. "Run before I shoot you."

Johann was confused, but the least he could do was run. He jumped up, and started running down the hill. As he reached the bottom, his feet landing in the stream, there was another shot. Again, no bullets reached him. He looked back, just in time to see Decker collapse to the ground, and his arm fall from his head.

Johann was momentarily frozen in place. What had just happened? But he turned and fled, realizing only one thing: he was free, and he had to get back. He had to warn the others.

()()()()()()

"I think it will work, _mon ami_," said LeBeau to Kinch.

They were alone in the cellar, beside the radio. The others had gone upstairs, to eat. Kinch had told them to take Geoff as well.

"Thanks, LeBeau," said Kinch. "I sure hope it does. We can't lose this one."

"_Non_," said LeBeau. "But this Fleischer guy does not stand a chance against all of us. We want Colonél Hogan back more than 'e wants to keep 'im. 'E will see that when we come at 'im like we do."

"You think we'll catch him by surprise, though," asked Kinch. "I mean, what if somethin happens, and he gets wise to us?"

"I bet we still outnumber them," assured LeBeau. "Besides, they will be completely surrounded, and will not be able to 'ide."

"That's not exactly what I meant," said Kinch. "I mean, what if he gets wise to us, and just kills Colonel Hogan?"

LeBeau frowned. "I do not know what to say to that, except that if 'e does, I will not treat 'im kindly. The only mercy 'e will get from me is a quick death. Still, I think that it will not come down to that. We will go in and quickly take over. 'E will not be expecting something like this. I think that 'e thinks we would be too preoccupied with saving _le Colonél,_ that we will not be planning anything."

"That's what I'm thinking too, but still, Fleischer's done this much," said Kinch. "He knew where'd we be and all of that. He knew enough to be there before us, and knew our next move. What's to say he won't do it again?"

"There was a traitor within us, Kinch," said LeBeau. "This time, there is no one. As Newkirk would say, we are holding all of the cards."

Kinch smiled. "Thanks. But speaking of Newkirk, we should go check up on him. And Carter. He needs to know what we're up to."

"Right," said LeBeau. There was another exceptionally loud clap of thunder.

"This storm just keeps getting worse," said Kinch. "I sure hope they're okay out there in the woods."

()()()()()()

Carter grimaced as Karl removed the bandage around his knee. But the wound was already looking better. Karl smiled at him.

"You are healing well, young man," he said. He cleaned the wound some more.

Carter winced as the medicine stung. "I guess that's good. Um, what do you think about Newkirk?"

Karl glanced at Newkirk lying beside Carter.

"To be truthful," said Karl. "He has lasted much longer than I first thought he would. His own wounds are actually healing which is a good sign. It means his body has not abandoned him. He is fighting death off. Still, he needs to wake up to have a chance. The longer he remains in a coma, the less we can do for him. Even though his body is healing, it still needs to be replenished. He needs food and water. I was able to give him some water earlier, because your body can unconsciously swallow, especially when it needs to. But the food is harder, and I am afraid he will choke if we try."

Carter nodded. "Well, I guess it sounds better than before." He looked down at Newkirk. "You hear that, buddy? You just gotta wake up and then you'll get better."

There was no response, which was what Carter expected. Still, it saddened him to see Newkirk in such a state. Karl patted his shoulder.

"Do not worry," he said, as he re-bandaged Carter's knee. "Did you know that if someone in a coma is talked to, they have a better chance to wake up?"

"Really," asked Carter.

"_Ja_," said Karl. "No one knows if they can hear you, but they feel your presence it is said."

"Cool," said Carter. "Well maybe since I've been sitting here this whole time, he knows I'm here."

"Maybe," said Karl. He stood up, the bandage done. Just then, Kinch and LeBeau walked in.

"Hey guys," said Carter. "What's going on out there?"

"A lot," said LeBeau. "We thought we would come and check on you and fill you in."

"I'd like that," said Carter.

"I will leave you alone," said Karl.

He took his bag up and left the room. Kinch quietly closed the door behind him. LeBeau went and sat beside Newkirk, and Kinch pulled up a chair next to Carter.

"How's your leg," asked Kinch.

"Oh, it's getting better," said Carter. "But guess what Karl said. He said that Newkirk's getting better too. He said that if we talk to him, he might wake sooner!"

"Well" said LeBeau, looking down at Newkirk. "You 'ad better wake up, you lazy Englishman. I will tell you what, when you wake up, I will make you the loveliest dish of fish and chips that you 'ave every 'ad. Hmm? 'Ow does that sound?"

Obviously, there was no response, but LeBeau straightened Newkirk's shirt some, just to do something.

"LeBeau, where would you get the fish," asked Kinch.

"Shhh," said LeBeau. "Do not spoil it for 'im. It might not be the best fish, but we will get it."

Carter chuckled. "When Newkirk wakes up, I'll go get it myself."

"I don't think so," said Kinch. "Not with your leg. The Colonel would kill you if he saw you limping around the woods just for some fish."

"And then 'e would come back and kill me and Kinch for letting you out," said Lebeau. They all chuckled.

But it died down.

"Are we gonna get the Colonel back," asked Carter.

"You bet we are," said Kinch.

"_Oui_," said LeBeau. "Kinch 'as this marvelous plan. It is so good, _Colonél_ Hogan might 'ave made it."

"Thanks, LeBeau," said Kinch shyly. "But we still have to pull it off."

"I'm sure you will," said Carter. "What people to do it better, than those who really want Colonel Hogan back? And don't forget Johann. He's a good man too."

"We won't," assured Kinch. "It's all in the plan."

Carter was about to say something else, when LeBeau jumped up, and pointed down at Newkirk. He started exclaiming in French. Kinch and Carter looked back and forth between Newkirk and LeBeau.

"LeBeau! Louis," said Kinch. "What is it?"

"'E moved," cried LeBeau. "I saw it. 'E moved 'is 'ead!"

Carter, Kinch, and LeBeau bent over Newkirk.

"C'mon buddy," said Carter hopefully. "Just open your eyes. Please."

()()()()()()

_"Take it," said Newkirk. "Jerry don't give much o' any warnin'. If you 'aven't noticed."_

_ The American Colonel smiled. "I guess I will. It's all I've got."_

_ "Right," said Newkirk. He watched the American go to the door and call for the guard. "'Ey, Colonel, I know we made introductions on the train, but I can't really recall your name."_

_ "Colonel Robert Hogan," said the American._

_ Once again, the nothingness was shattered by recognition. Now, he had one more name, and one more face. If he could smile, he would._


	18. Return

**Chapter Eighteen: R****eturn**

The young, skinny underground member, Fynn, sat with his back against a tree in the woods that lie on the edge of the Bachmeier's farm. He sat behind some bushes, where his eyes cold see through a small opening. But he was not relying too much on his eyes, because he could not move. He was relying on his ears. If someone was coming, he was hoping that the sound of their boots on the forest floor would give them away. If one was looking for him, they might see him. But he was well concealed, and not moving a muscle, save for his slow and rhythmic breathing.

There were other sentries in the woods, of course. Fynn was deepest in; he would be the first to know if someone was coming their way. This was why he had positioned himself there. Fynn had a slightly different agenda than his fellow sentries. He was there to prevent _anyone _from stepping foot on the farm. His friends were not the same friends that the other sentries had. He had different orders: the next man to escape Fleischer was going to be killed, along with the other sentries. It would be done quickly, before anyone knew what was happening.

He was anticipating an escape, of course. It had been arranged. Someone had to tell Papa Bear's men about the grave danger Colonel Hogan was in; about how there was an opening in Fleischer's guard; and just how they could get to Papa Bear. It was an easy enough plan; Decker would come with Johann, but Johann would not make it to the barn. Only Decker would, supposedly as a defector. It was most likely that he would not be trusted by the others, but Fynn would be there to watch his back as best as he could, until it was time to get back to their own side.

The thunderstorm had diminished, so that now it was just raining steadily. The ground being damp made it easier for one to walk silently, especially under the sound of the rain, but Fynn had young, sharp ears and was not worried by it. He had this position for awhile, and would be able to know when something else entered the vicinity around him.

Suddenly, there was the sound of rustling ahead, the sound one makes when crashing through ankle-high brush. Fynn sat up, and moved his rifle forward some. His eyes were scanning as much as they could from behind the bush, but his ears were straining to detect the sound again. It came again, from his right a bit. He shifted his wait and rifle slowly; almost imperceptibly. At the same time, he cocked the rifle, and brought it up, so that it rested comfortably against his shoulder. Then, he saw his prey.

Johann was coming his way, hurriedly, but with a worn out pace. He was walking clumsily, miss-stepping often, and having to catch himself. It was obvious to Fynn that Johann was tired and working on his last drops of fuel. This hardly surprised Fynn. What did surprise him was that Decker was nowhere to be seen. Had something been changed in the plans with no time to warn Fynn? Or had Johann not trusted Decker and got rid of him? But Johann had no weapon. Did that mean that Johann somehow escaped before he was supposed to? These were some important unanswered questions for Fynn, because now he had to somehow make things go back in favor of Fleischer and his plan that Fynn knew of. Something was wrong here, that much he knew.

Fynn was sharp, but had never been on this end of the plans. He had always been following orders. Now, he had to come up with something on his own. And he had to be careful, because if took a wrong step, he would be dead. This was the downside of working undercover. You had to know exactly what you were going to do, and even then, nothing was guaranteed. Fynn watched Johann come. There was a small ravine straight ahead. Once he went down there, he would make his move. It would be easy to come up on him, approach him as a friend, and then smash his head. It would be a tragic fall…nothing more.

Fynn watched as Johann came to the ravine. Johann stopped and leaned against a tree, to catch his breath. Fynn held his breath. Then, Johann began his descent into the small ravine. Fynn was sure that Johann's full attention would be on the descent, so he began to stand up. Suddenly, Johann slipped, and with a cry, disappeared from Fynn's sight as he crashed to the bottom of the ravine. Fynn winced; not because of the fall, but because of the amount of noise Johann's fall had given off. That was it; his cover had been blown.

Fynn jumped up from his post and hurried to the ravine. He cautiously stopped at the edge, and looked down. Johann was slowly and warily picking himself up.

"Who goes there," cried a voice from behind Fynn.

Both Fynn and Johann looked in the direction of the voice. Johann smiled with relief when he saw Fynn, recognizing his fellow underground member. When Fynn turned around, he saw Ambros and Niklas coming towards him.

"What is it Fynn," asked Niklas.

"It is Johann," called back Fynn, appearing alarmed. He started quickly going down into the ravine. "He slipped and fell!"

Fynn skidded down into the ravine, and stopped with a splash beside Johann. Johann began to say something, but was taken by surprise when Fynn threw his fist up, bringing a sharp rock to the side of his head. Johann crumpled to the ground. Fynn looked back up the ravine, just in time to see Ambros and Niklas stop and look down at him.

"What happened," cried Niklas.

"He must have hit his head," replied Fynn, sounding very concerned. "Hurry, come help bring him up."

Niklas and Ambros began to come down, but Ambros put a hand on Niklas' shoulder. "You stay here and keep watch." Niklas nodded and Ambros began to carefully make his way down to Fynn.

Fynn turned his face away from them and scowled. It would have been easier to get rid of them when they were both down here. But no matter; he would still be able to do it. Fynn knelt beside Johann, and put his fingers to his neck. The man was still very much alive. He saw that Johann's shoulder was bandaged; he must have gotten shot. No wonder he looked so beat when he had been coming their way. Ambros eventually came down and stood next to Fynn.

"How is he," asked the large man.

Fynn stood up. "Just knocked out. We should get him to Karl's house quickly. He could catch a cold out here."

"_Ja_," agreed Ambros. "He looks unwell to begin with. Has he been shot?"

"It appears so," said Fynn. "Here, I will take his legs, and you take his shoulders. Be mindful of his wound, though."

"_Ja_," said Ambros. He walked around Johann, and carefully picked the man up. Fynn took Johann by the ankles and lifted him. He began to cautiously back up the ravine. Ahead, Niklas was looking around. The rain was now coming down harder, and it was becoming difficult to see. Fynn stopped momentarily to shift his rifle by the strap more comfortably on his shoulder. He also moved back his jacket, so that it was not in the way of his pistol, which was holstered at his side. Then, Fynn 'slipped'. He let himself fall backwards, and dropped his shooting hand downwards, as if to catch himself. What he really did was draw his gun quickly and fire a shot to Ambros. Ambros staggered backwards when a bullet hit him in the arm. He managed to keep Johann's head up.

Niklas nearly jumped out of his skin when the shot was fired. He looked down and saw Ambros get hit but miraculously keep his feet. He looked down at Fynn, thinking his gun had discharged accidentally when he slipped. But what he did see scared him more. Fynn was aiming right for Niklas. Niklas hit the ground, but not before a bullet grazed the top of his shoulder. He scooted back some, and rolled behind a tree. Then, he cocked his rifle and peered back down into the ravine.

Fynn swore when he missed Niklas. He dropped Johann's legs as he looked back at Ambros, who was in a dilemma. He was trying not to drop Johann's head, but badly needed to get his rifle. Right before Fynn turned back to him, he grabbed a fair size rock and when Fynn looked back at him, he landed a square hit in Fynn's face with the rock. Fynn fell backwards, momentarily dazed, which gave Ambros enough time to lay Johann's head down, and get his rifle. He quickly cocked it and advanced on Fynn. When Fynn opened his eyes, he found himself looking down the barrel of Ambros' rifle.

"Any last words," asked Ambros dangerously. "_Traitor!_" Fynn tried to scoot back some, but Ambros grabbed him by the collar and shook him. "How could you? You son of a bitch! You lousy son of a bitch! You call yourself a loyal man! How could you turn against your friends? How could you?"

Fynn kept a steady glare at Ambros. There was the sound of some footsteps and Fynn looked up to see Niklas behind him, his rifle trained on him as well. There was also a look of deep hurt at being betrayed on Niklas' face. Fynn looked back up at Ambros. The larger man motioned for him to get up. Fynn nodded, but as he put his hands down to push himself up, he snatched his gun up and tried to fire another shot. But Ambros' rifle was quicker, and Fynn cried out when a bullet tore into his stomach. He dropped his pistol and started clutching his belly. But his fatal move seemed to have pushed Ambros over the edge, because the large man dropped his rifle and pounced on Fynn. His two strong hands wrapped around Fynn's scrawny neck, and he began to strangle him. There was no mercy in Ambros' motives. Fynn was choking on no air, and a lot of blood. Blood came oozing out of his mouth. But Ambros paid no heed to this. He was determined to have Fynn die with him knowing what he thought about him. But Niklas, seeing that Fynn was dying a painful death anyway, scrambled down to Ambros and tried to unlatch his hands from Fynn's neck.

"Ambros. Ambros let go," pleaded Niklas. "Don't bother with him. Please, let him be. We've got to get Johann to the house."

Ambros seemed to snap out of it at the mention of Johann. He let go of Fynn and backed up. They both watched as Fynn tried to breathe in a breath of air, but failed. He coughed on the blood that was blocking his throat, and then his chest heaved, and fell, and he went limp. He was dead.

Ambros and Niklas sat there for few moments more, both breathing heavily. The rain had diminished some more, so that it was just a gentle patter.

"You okay," asked Ambros.

"_Ja_," answered Niklas. "You?"

"I am fine," replied Ambros.

Niklas nodded. "Let us get Johann into the house."

Ambros nodded. They both got up, and picked up Johann. The man was stirring. As the two men picked him up, he blearily opened his eyes.

"What happened," asked Johann.

"We will tell you when we get to the house," said Niklas. "But do not worry. We took care of it."

Ambros was silent.

"Colonel Hogan," said Johann, suddenly appearing very concerned. "We have the others…Colonel Hogan…it's a trap…"

"Who," asked Niklas.

"The others…LeBeau…Kinch," murmured Johann. "Carter…"

"They have already been warned," assured Niklas. "Your father, he came and told us what happened, and what Fleischer planned to do."

Disbelief was written all over Johann's face. "I...I don't believe it…he made it…but he doesn't know the Bachmeiers…how?"

"We found him wandering the woods," explained Niklas. They were entering the fields now. "So we brought him, and James and Louis questioned him. He told them everything."

"I don't believe it," said Johann. "Maybe we'll make it after all."

He fell quiet after that, and let himself be carried to the house. From there, Pepin rushed from the kitchen. He then ran back in, warning his father that he had more patients. Seeing as there was no more room in the guest bedroom, Johann was brought upstairs into Franz's room, and laid there. Johann did not see Kinch, Carter, or LeBeau. He only saw Ambros and Niklas, Analiese, Karl, and Pepin.

Karl had Niklas and Ambros remain in the room while he treated Johann. After he was through bandaging Johann, he worked on the two sentries. Pepin heard out their story about Fynn, and was just as shocked at hearing the news about another traitor. This one, though, seemed to be felt harder, because Fynn had been a close friend of Ambros, Niklas, and Pepin's since they were much younger. Karl said nothing until the end.

"I hate to see all of this," he said, as he packed up his bag. Johann was lying on the bed, seated up against some pillows. Niklas was sitting on the foot of the bed, Pepin was sitting at Franz's desk, and Ambros was leaning in the door way. Karl continued. "I hate to see it all again. Friends being torn apart because of war. Where you once were planning on giving your lives for one another, you end up killing one another." He had no accusatory tone, but Ambros was beginning to feel guilty about his actions. "There was no wrong in what you did…Niklas and Ambros…so do not dwell on it. But there is no greater betrayal than that of one friend betraying another, not after having spent so many years together. That is why war is so terrible. It makes men out of boys too quickly, because they must think about principles and duty, rather than past brotherhoods and friendships, and how the grass was greener when they were younger."

He left the room. Johann looked at the younger men. "I am sorry."

Ambros grunted and left the room.

Pepin stood up, and looked worriedly at Niklas.

"Do not worry," said Niklas. "He just needs time by himself."

Johann threw his legs over the side of the bed. "Sorry to change the subject—" Niklas snorted at the sarcasm "—but can I get some food?"

"Of course," exclaimed Pepin. "You probably haven't had a decent meal in awhile. Come on; there's plenty of leftovers."

He helped Johann out of bed, but Johann shooed him away and made it downstairs by himself. As was expected, Analiese was just putting some hot stew, fresh bread, and some ale on the table. Johann breathed in the heavenly aroma of the food, and sat down, not sparing a moment to start shoveling it into his mouth.

"Slow down, my dear man," said Analiese. "I won't have you choking at my table."

"_Jawohl, Frau Bachmeier_," said Johann smartly.

Analiese just nodded sharply and went back to repairing some shirts.

"Where is Ambros," asked Niklas.

"He went outside," said Karl. "He, Franz, and Jacob went back to the woods, to bring back Fynn's body, and then keep watch. I tried to tell him not to, but we shall let him be for awhile."

"Don't worry," said Johann. "Unless Colonel Hogan escapes, which is very unlikely, there will be no one else coming."

"Then how did you get away," asked Pepin.

"It was really strange," answered Johann. He took a sip of his ale. "But I was released."

"Released," echoed Niklas. He sat at the table across from Johann. "Why?"

"I don't know," said Johann. "I don't think it was meant to happen the way it did, though. You see—"

"Wait," said Pepin. "James and Louis need to hear this."

"Of course," said Johann. "I had forgotten they were here. What about Carter? He got here too?"

"_Ja_," said Pepin. "Come into the guest bedroom. That's where they are."

Johann and Niklas got up and followed Pepin to the guest bedroom. Before they opened the door, Analiese warned them, "They might be asleep."

"Mama," said Pepin. "They need to know that Johann is back, and the news he brings."

"Of course," said Analiese. "But I wish it weren't so."

But Pepin quietly opened the door, and saw that indeed, all the occupants of the room were sound asleep. Newkirk and Carter were still on the bed. LeBeau was lying across the bed by their feet. Kinch was sitting in an armchair beside the bed, slouched down it, with his head to the side. Pepin couldn't help but smile. He stepped all the way in, allowing Niklas and Johann to come in as well.

Johann first saw Carter, leaned up against the headboard, and he smiled, relieved that the younger man was safe. But when he saw the man lying beside him and his chest moving up and down, he exploded.

"He's alive!"

It was as if someone set off an alarm. Kinch and LeBeau jumped up, reaching for their guns. Carter's eyes snapped open and he sat up some, looking around wildly for any sign of danger. Niklas and Pepin both whirled around to Johann, who was advancing to the bed, eyes only on Newkirk.

"How…what…he's alive!"

"Yes," said Carter. "And so are you, and me, and Kinch, and Louie…"

"But we were told he was dead," said Johann quickly. "Fleischer…he…_he lied to us._ That bastard!"

"Did you expect anything else," asked LeBeau. "Now keep your voice down."

"You don't understand," said Johann. "Colonel Hogan, he thinks Newkirk's dead. He thinks he's going to get all of you killed." And then, he quickly went into to everything that had happened since Carter and Geoff had escaped. He told them about how Colonel Hogan reacted to finding out Newkirk was dead, and the options he was given regarding his remaining men and the operation. Even thought they had heard most of it already Kinch, LeBeau and Carter were still stricken when they heard about Colonel Hogan's reaction, and how he had made his final decision to give into Fleischer's plan. "It was pitiful. We were both searching for a way out, we couldn't see any way. He's ready to go on with it. It nearly killed him to admit it, but he was only thinking of all the other men at camp."

"Johann," Kinch finally said. "Johann, it's okay. Don't worry. We're not going to go thinking Colonel Hogan made the wrong decision. The way I see it, he had no choice, and I would've done the same thing." Everyone looked at Kinch. He looked them all squarely in the eye. "I wouldn't want to, of course, but what's five against a couple of thousand? Besides, if anyone was going to ever be punished by all of this, it's unfair for those who do the least to be punished just as severely. We work out here, so we need to pay the price when the price is called up."

There was a tense silence that followed Kinch's words. He got up and walked to the window, and looked through the curtains. It had stopped raining, but the sun was now dipping behind the horizon of trees in the distance, and would soon be out of sight.

"Look," said Kinch. He turned back to them. "What's done is done. What we would have done doesn't matter, because we weren't there. But what we can do remains to be seen. The sun is going down, which means we move out in a few hours. Niklas, are you and Ambros still up to it?"

Niklas nodded. "We are fine."

"Good," said Kinch. "Johann, you'll stay here. You'll be here with Carter, Newkirk, Karl, Analiese, and your father. Everyone else will be out. I suggest that you go get some sleep now, Johann. It might be a long night."

Johann nodded. "I will." He turned to leave the room.

"And tell Karl and Analiese to get some sleep as well," said Kinch. "We'll watch over the house for a bit."

Johann smiled. "I'll try and tell _Mutter_ that."

The others laughed as he left. Kinch looked to Niklas. "You all right?"

"_Ja_," said Niklas. "It has just been a stressful day. I will go now, as well." He got up, and with a nod to everyone, left the room.

"Anything for me to do," asked Pepin.

"Just rest," said Kinch. "After all, it'll be a long night."

"_Ja_," said Pepin. He went to the door. "I will help Johann to persuade Mama to go to bed."

"_Bonne chance_," said LeBeau, giving him a wave.

When he left, Carter shook his head. "Poor Colonel Hogan. Can you imagine? I mean, he thinks Peter's dead, and then he had to make that awful decision, and it'll all turn out to be for nothing when we free him."

"_Oui_," said LeBeau. "Look 'ow Johann reacted when 'e saw that Pierre was alive. 'Ow will _mon Colonèl_ react?"

"He'll be glad that he's alive," said Kinch. "Let's not worry about that, ok?"

Carter and LeBeau shared a worried look for Kinch. "_Mon ami_, is there anything you wish to talk about?"

"No," answered Kinch, a little too quickly.

LeBeau rolled his eyes. "_Mon ami, s'il vous plaît_, you must tell us what is on your mind! I do not want you to go out tonight still worried about something!"

Kinch spun onto LeBeau. "What? You think I'll screw it up or something?" LeBeau opened his mouth to make a hasty reply, but Kinch cut him off. "Do you think I'll go out there and choke because I'm worried about something?" He was glaring at LeBeau and breathing hard.

LeBeau appeared to be lost for words. He kept opening and shutting his mouth, and nervously clenching his fists. He was at a loss on what to tell Kinch. Because the truth was, he _was_ worried about that, but not for Kinch, but himself.

It was Carter to the rescue though, for the both of them. "That's exactly what I think," said Carter. "You're thinking about all the decisions you've had to make these past two days, and now that you know the decision Colonel Hogan had to make about us and the operation, you think it makes all of your decisions look very insignificant and so now you're going through them, picking them apart, and making it look like you made a mess of things." He let out a breath and started again. "Thing is, you're wrong. Every single decision you and Louie have made today was important because you were dealing with lives. I hardly think a number of lives should matter on regarding importance. Not in this line of business. Both of you have done the Colonel proud, and he'll tell you the exact same thing when we get him back. Now, was that what you two wanted to hear?"

Kinch raised his eyebrows at Carter, and LeBeau looked at the younger man intensely. Carter shrunk under the scrutiny, whatever boldness he had had in his little speech gone. But LeBeau smiled.

"_M__erci mon ami,_" said LeBeau gratefully. "We needed that."

"Yeah Carter, thanks," said Kinch. "You're right. We're just…how to put it…nervous?"

"I'd be too, boy," exclaimed Carter. "I mean, going into those woods in the dark, trying to surprise some of the best double agents we've ever met, and all the time knowing that inside Fleischer is—"

"André," said LeBeau sternly, smacking him on the chest. He was glaring, but he smiled. "We do not need to 'ear all of that, do we?"

"Oh," said Carter sheepishly. "I guess not." He looked down at Newkirk. "I guess that would be the part where you say something like _You're ruddy right, Andrew._"

Carter's impression of Newkirk had Kinch and LeBeau laughing hard.

"Hey, that wasn't too bad," said Kinch. "Just don't let him hear you, though."

"Who cares if he does," said Carter. "I _would_ be glad if he could hear me. I mean, he moved hours ago…why won't he wake up?"

"Give 'im time," said LeBeau. "You know 'ow Newkirk is…'e never comes around until 'e wants to if 'e can help it."

"Still," said Kinch, coming to sit down at the foot of the bed. "It would help if he woke up before we left. I'd feel better."

He laid a hand on Newkirk's shoulder, and squeezed it, like he did when he wanted to let someone know he was there for them.

()()()()()()

_ "You're nothing more than a thief."_

_ "Really? And wot are you basin' that on? If that's 'ow we're goin' to do things aroun' 'ere, then I'd better say that you're no more than a Negro."_

_ Newkirk felt like shrinking back when the tall, strong black man stood up from the table. The barracks was quiet; no one knew what to say. _

_ "What is wrong with you," asked the colored man. "I helped you…we all helped you and your friends, but all we've gotten back from you is suspicion, two-bit remarks, and things disappearing."_

_ Newkirk almost smiled. If only they knew…_

_ He stood up, and put his hat on. He extended his hand across the table to the Negro man. There was a shocked look on the man's face._

_ "I just wanted to introduce meself," said Newkirk. He smiled, but the Negro man didn't smile back. For a moment, he just looked down at Newkirk's hand, as if he was looking for some kind of trick. Finally, he shook it._

_"I already heard your name," said Kinch. "On the train, remember? When you threatened Colonel Hogan?"_

_ "Oh, yes," said Newkirk wistfully. "Well, I 'ad to make sure 'e was a good bloke."_

_The Negro man pulled his hand away. "There are other ways of doing that."_

_ The smile on Newkirk's face vanished instantly. "You wouldn't understand. Now what did you say your name was? I don't think I caught it."_

_"I never said it," replied the Negro sharply. "I'm Sergeant James Kinchloe. My friends call me Kinch. But you can call me Sergeant Kinchloe."_

_Even though the memory was bad, Newkirk latched on to it. Over and over again, he could feel himself shaking Kinch's warm, calloused hand. That day he was supposed to feel threatened by dear ole Kinch. But when he had finally shaken the Negro man's hand, he had been glad. Because he knew the man was good. He never did call him Sergeant Kinchloe._

_It had always been Kinch. _


	19. The Beginning of the End

**Chapter Nineteen: T****he**** B****eginning ****of the E****nd**

_ The smile on Newkirk's face vanished instantly. "You wouldn't understand. Now what did you say your name was? I don't think I caught it."_

_ "I never said it," Kinch replied sharply. "I'm Sergeant James Kinchloe. My friends call me Kinch. But you can call me Sergeant Kinchloe."_

Kinch woke up to LeBeau shaking him awake.

"Kinch, wake up," said LeBeau. "We need to get ready."

Kinch opened his heavy eye lids. He was slouched down in an armchair in the guest bedroom. He had not intended to fall asleep, but his weariness had taken over. LeBeau had let him fall asleep, knowing that Kinch needed it. He was more than happy to watch over the house with Franz and Pepin while his friends slept. Cart had not slept, though. He had enough sleep since his arrival at the farm, and was now watch Newkirk, for anymore movement or any sign that the Englishman would wake up. But there had been none, which disheartened Carter greatly. LeBeau had continued to assure the younger man that Newkirk would wake up, given more time. He reminded Carter that it was a blessing that he would live at all, considering what had happened to him and what his chances had been earlier.

Kinch sat up, and rubbed his eyes.

"Already," he asked.

"_Oui_," said LeBeau. "It is dusk. Franz, Pepin, and the others are waiting in the den."

Kinch stood up, and stretched his back. He saw Carter looking at him.

"What's up," he asked.

"Nothin'," replied Carter lamely. "I'm just bored. I don't wanna be left here while you guys go get the Colonel."

"Carter," said Kinch. "You know you are in no shape to go with us. Besides, someone needs to be here with Newkirk when he wakes up. I'm sure he'll be glad to find you there for him."

"Yeah," said Carter. "But…" He looked nervous.

"What is it," asked LeBeau.

"What if something happens here," said Carter. "Ya know, while you guys are gone, what if something happens, like someone comes here to get us?"

"You're not alone, Carter," said Kinch. "There's Johann and Karl who can still both fight if they need to. And I'm willing to bet Analiese is crafty when she needs to be." He patted Carter's shoulder. "Don't worry. Besides, Fleischer wants us to go there. He won't send anyone here. He needs all of his men to be there to capture us. Which isn't going to happen."

"And if…if something goes wrong, and you guys don't make it," asked Carter.

"Why are you all of the sudden worried about this, _mon ami_," asked LeBeau with concern. "Is something bothering you?"

"I just don't want to be left behind because I'm scared that if something happens I won't know what to do, or how I'm going to protect Peter, or just anything that needs to be done."

"We 'ave faith in you, André," said LeBeau. "And you are not alone. Like Kinch said, there are others 'ere that know what to do as well, and will be at your side the whole time. You know what you should do if anything should 'appen to us."

"Yes, I do," stated Carter. "I just hope it doesn't happen."

"And neither do we," said Kinch with a smirk. "Look, don't worry about it. Just stay here, and stay calm. We'll be back by morning, and it'll all be over."

"_Oui_," affirmed LeBeau. He patted Carter's good knee. "You will see. We will come back with _le Colonèl_, and then we will all be back together, and then we can go back 'ome."

"How," asked Carter. "We've got everyone looking for us."

"Okay, okay," said Kinch. "That's too far ahead. We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Let's just get Colonel Hogan back and get rid of Fleischer and his minions."

"_D'accord_," said LeBeau.

"Yeah, right," said Carter with a whisper of a smile.

Kinch stepped back, straightening his jacket some. "Okay, LeBeau, let's go. Carter, you'll be fine. Just keep an eye out for Newkirk for us, and if he wakes up without us, tell him we think he's slow and not thoughtful about us…and tell him we're joking."

Carter smiled for real that time. "Don't worry, I will. You guys just bring the Colonel back."

"We will," promised LeBeau.

LeBeau and Kinch left the room, giving Carter one last reassuring look, and looking at Newkirk rather forlornly. When they came into the den, they found Johann seated on the sofa, Karl and Analiese watching from the kitchen, Franz, Pepin, and the other Underground members standing there waiting for them. Everyone was armed adequately.

"Okay, everyone knows what to do," asked Kinch.

Everyone nodded. He looked at Johann, Karl, and Analiese.

"If we shouldn't make it…well, you can stay or not or do whatever you want, but promise me you'll get Andrew and Peter out, and back to England. Then, radio the camp to evacuate. They know the drills over there."

Karl nodded. "We will take care of everything if anything should happen. But go, now."

Kinch nodded sharply and looked at LeBeau.

"We are ready when you are, _mon ami_," he said.

Kinch shouldered his rifle. "Then let's go."

()()()()()()

Major Hochstetter was first aware of intense pain. He could not even pinpoint its location, but the more he tried, the more it hurt everywhere. He almost wished that he could just go back to unconsciousness, so he would not feel anything.

And then he remembered why he had been in the car in the first place.

Colonel Hogan, it was all Colonel Hogan. He had been following that man's trail all over the countryside, and this was where he ended up: in a mangled car, wrapped around a tree, and himself in terrible pain. And as usual, his problems all came back to one man: Colonel Hogan.

And where was Colonel Hogan? Either planning his next act of sabotage, or actually escaping for good this time. One way or another, he was having the last laugh with this one. Hochstetter would once again be back to the drawing board. Never mind that it could not possibly be Hogan's fault that he had gotten into a car wreck, but when you were this angry, it's always another man's acts that got you in trouble.

When he finally opened his eyes, Hochstetter was starting straight up at the ceiling of the car. There was a large dent in it. He was lying sideways, over the passenger seat. He tried to sit up, but when he moved his legs, pain shot through them. Looking over towards his legs, he saw that they were both pinned beneath the dashboard, because lying across the front of the car was a large tree branch. Hochstetter groaned, and tried to sit up again. Gritting his teeth, he was able to manage it. When he was finally leaning back in his own seat, he was breathing heavily, and trying to ignore the intense throbbing that was going through his legs.

Then, he wondered why he had been laying over in the passenger seat. Where was his passenger? He remembered that Bauer had been there, and that his side had been the one that struck the tree. He looked over, and with horror, saw what had happened to his aide.

Bauer was laying over the dashboard, his head and shoulders through the space where the window should have been. Instead, broken glass littered the front of the car in millions of tiny, sharp pieces. There was blood dripping off the dashboard and to the floor of the car. Hochstetter realized that there was blood on his jacket, and it wasn't his. He grimaced when he saw the many lacerations that Bauer had all over his face, neck, and arms.

Hochstetter reached over, gritting his teeth once more, as he reached for Bauer's neck. But he couldn't reach it. So, grabbing a fistful of Bauer's trousers, he pulled down, jerking his aide back into the car. The younger man pathetically hit the passenger seat, and started sliding sideways into Hochstetter's lap. Hochstetter pushed him back up, and searched for a pulse. He found none. Bauer was dead.

Hochstetter briefly felt some remorse, some pity for the younger man. After all, he had been his aide since he had arrived at Hammelburg. Bauer had been a fresh recruit from school, though older than most new members of the Gestapo. He had had officer training, and that was why Hochstetter wanted him. He hated working with incompetent people. Though he always reprimanded and got angry at everyone, he secretly admitted to himself that Bauer had always been a good aide. He had known what Hochstetter need, and never asked too many questions, which was a relief after whole days with his superiors.

He realized that he knew very little about his aide; if he had a family, where he went on his furloughs, and other such attributes. He had never bothered to ask because he never went on furloughs, only taking some breaks with some colleagues after a long day in the field. He had shared a few beers with Bauer, but they never really talked much about anything outside of Gestapo business. It was all they had in common it appeared.

Hochstetter sighed, now feeling very lonely. The rain had stopped, but it the sun was nearly set. It was very dim outside, and he could just barely see his watch. The temperature had dropped, and with whatever wounds he had, he was feeling colder by the minute. He wrapped his arms around him, trying to conserve some kind of body warmth.

Looking around, he hoped that no wild animal caught scent of the blood and prayed that someone came along quickly, because he did not want to spend the night in the car with a dead man.

()()()()()()

"Olsen, Scotty, come see."

Olsen and Scotty looked up from their checkers game to Forrest who was seated by the window, looking out. He waved them over.

"Hurry," he whispered.

They quickly got up and went to the window. A staff car was rolling to a stop in front of Kommandant Klink's office. As soon as it stopped, a General Burkhalter and an unknown Gestapo officer quickly went into Klink's office.

"The coffeepot," exclaimed Olsen. They started running for Colonel Hogan's office. "Forrest, go get Baker! Someone watch the door!"

As Olsen went into Colonel Hogan's office, Forrest opened up the tunnel entrance from Kinch's bunk and called down for Baker, who had been at the radio for the better part of the day. Baker climbed up quickly.

"What's going on," he asked.

"Burkhalter and some Gestapo goon just went into Klink's office in a rush," explained Forrest. "Olsen has the coffeepot on." They walked into Colonel Hogan's office. "What are they saying?"

"Shhh," said Olsen. "Burkhalter's talking."

_"—but the fact still remains that he is missing, after trying to find Colonel Hogan and his men."_

The guys looked at one another…who was missing?

_"But General Burkhalter, could it not be that Major Hochstetter is simply still looking, and has just not yet reported to anyone?"_

_ "That was our original thought, Herr Colonel—". _ It was the unknown Gestapo officer that was speaking. _"And we actually believe that he still is. But—if you will look at this map here—he was last seen by a farmer taking the Scheunenstraße road, but no one has seen him since, not even leaving the road. He is somewhere between here and here."_

The guys could imagine the man pointing to two spots on the map on _Scheunenstraße._ Baker went to their supply of maps, and found the road. While they listened he pointed it out to the others.

_"So you are assuming he is still on that road out there, looking,"_ asked Klink. _"It makes sense. Many prisoners see barns as good places to hide or find food."_

_"Exactly, Klink,"_ said Burkhalter. _"And there are also a lot of woods and countryside there, meaning they would be less likely to run into people. So, now that you agree that that is where your prisoners might be there, you will have your guards look there with some of the Gestapo."_

_"But, sir, my guards are needed here," _stammered Klink. _"The prisoners that are still here may try something if they know that guards have left."_

_"Klink,"_ said Burkhalter. _"It hardly matters if anyone else should escape because you are already in hot water because of Colonel Hogan's escape. He is the only one that the Berlin staff cares about in this camp."_

_ "More than me, sir,"_ asked Klink incredulously. _"A loyal German, who has always maintained—"_

_"Yes, even you,"_ Burkhalter said to cut off Klink's antics.

Olsen snickered but Baker shushed him quickly.

_"Just select your best guards to accompany Major Klöden,"_ order Burkhalter. _"And quickly."_

_"Jawohl, Herr General,"_ said Klink.

Baker unplugged the coffeepot. "Jeez, they must be awful sure about all of this. I mean, it's nearly dark, and they're sending out a bunch of hungry guards."

"Well I offered to give some of them my cabbage," said Scotty. "I never was a fan of it."

They all gave Scotty a look.

"What," he exclaimed. "I was just…lightening up the mood…but if you guys don't take…oh, never mind."

"Forget it," said Baker. "I'll go downstairs and radio the Bachmeiers to let them know that there's a patrol coming their way."

"Is there anything we can do," asked Forrest. "To slow them down like we did with Hochstetter?"

Baker thought for a moment, and then led them back into the common room. He glanced out a window. "I'd say we go slash the tires again on the truck, but that would probably cause suspicion. No matter how dumb we like to think they are, the goons would know we were up to something since that would be the second time today." The other grumbled their agreement. "Maybe if we caused a distraction...something that would have everyone running to do something about."

"It would have to be something serious," said Olsen. "Burkhalter isn't giving Klink any slack about those guards. It would have to be something that even Burkhalter thought was serious."

"Another prisoner escape," suggested Scotty.

"No, the guards are cranky enough as it is," said Forrest. "We'd just get ourselves shot."

"Wait a minute, that's it," exclaimed Baker.

"What," asked the other three simultaneously.

"We'll cause a fire," said Baker. "After the last one, they'll freak out about another one."

"But you just said they'd be suspicious about another tire slashing," said Scotty. "Wouldn't they be suspicious about another fire?"

Baker was silent a moment, and then he shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "Look, we just lost our entire kitchen and mess hall, plus a bunch of supplies. Even Burkhalter was frustrated about that, and normally he doesn't care much about our little Stalag. So, if we could cause some kind of fire again, I don't think he would take the guards out."

"If you say so, pal," said Olsen. "But we'd better hurry!"

"Ok," said Baker. "Forrest, Olsen, go to the motor pool, but go around the de-lousing station because they'll be coming the other way, and start a with the gasoline cans. But start it right after they leave with the truck, because we don't want that to burn. It needs to go pick up the Red Cross packages next week. Scotty, you and me will go to the hoses and cut one of them. Do your job and get back here as quickly as possible."

They quickly left the barracks and scattered to cause mayhem.

Forrest and Olsen paused momentarily as they came up on the motor pool from the back. Corporal Langenscheidt was rounding up some guards to go with the Gestapo. When he passed, they quickly went up to a small back door that had been created some time ago for purposes such as this, and came up behind Klink's staff car. They inched down, between the car and the wall, until they were sitting next to the gasoline cans. Deciding it was not best to set fire to Klink's car, they moved around the edge of the motor pool against the wall, and started a fire on the far side, behind the tool shed. They spread the gasoline out along most of the wall, so that it would keep a steady fire going. Then, they went to their little door again. Just as they did, one of the guards came out and drove out the truck that would take the guards to _Scheunenstraße_. As soon as it was clear, Olsen lit a match and dropped it into the gasoline. They closed the door and then scampered back to the barracks.

Baker and Scotty almost ran dead into Schultz as they walked away from the fire hose, their task completed. They managed to break into a casual walk before he sighted them so that they did not look too suspicious. When he saw them, he pointed his rifle at them, upside down of course.

"Halt, who goes there," he asked, plainly seeing it was two of the prisoners.

"Lily Marlene and her date," replied Baker quickly. He and Scotty locked arms, and Scotty swooned towards him dramatically.

"Oh, darlin', you're soooo handsome," he said in a high voice.

Baker smirked humorously, and then became serious and pushed Scotty off of him.

"You know it's just us, Schultz," said Baker, taking another step towards Schultz as the guard lowered his rifle.

"_Nein_," said Schultz. "I know it is _not_ just you. There is no prisoner in here that is _just_ a prisoner. You are all _up_ to _some-thing_ every minute of the day."

"Don't worry," said Scotty. "We sleep too. Not like you fellas of the master race. By the way, Schultz, do you ever sleep?"

"How could I," he asked. "With you prisoners always lurking around? Even when I do sleep, I see you all in my dreams, going around the camp, up to your monkey business. Sometimes, you are even in my bedroom."

Scotty suddenly had a coughing fit, and Baker slapped him hard on the back a few, reprimanding times.

"Is he okay," asked Schultz.

"Yeah," said Baker, shooting Scotty a look. "It's the night air."

"Well then get back inside the barracks," ordered Schultz, raising his rifle at them again. "_Raus!_" They started walking away. "Wait a minute: what were you doing out here anyway?"

Baker and Scotty turned around, smiling at one another.

"We could say that we were just taking a walk," said Scotty.

"Or we could tell you what we were really up to," said Baker. "Which will it be?"

"Puh-leeze," said Schultz. "Just go back inside. I do not want to hear it. But if I catch you out on a walk again, it will be the cooler for you. Now go!"

"Okay, okay," said Scotty. "No need to be pushy."

They quickly went back into the barracks. Just as they came to the door, Forrest and Olsen were coming around the side of the barracks, giving them thumb-up signs. Baker looked back at Schultz who was watching them with wide eyes. He quickly walked away from the barracks, leaving the men chuckling.

They stepped inside the barracks to find everyone looking at them expectantly.

"Well," someone asked.

Suddenly, an alarm went off, and they heard the guards crying out about a fire at the motor pool.

The men started to laugh, when suddenly one of the shutters on the window pushed open and Schultz's head came through.

"That was not a very nice thing to do," he said like a reprimanding father.

The prisoners guiltily looked at him.

"But does it help Colonel Hogan and his men get back home safely," Schultz asked.

The prisoners nodded exuberantly.

"Then I guess it is okay," said Schultz, and with that he closed the shutters, leaving them laughing again.


	20. A Lifetime of Memories

**Chapter Twenty: A L****ifetime ****of**** M****emories**

_A new baby sister…Mavis_

_Where'd da go?_

_I'm Kingsley Warren…you can work 'ere at me pub…_

…_tricks like that…wanna learn more from me, ole Alfie the Artist?_

…_work for me…an' wotever you can bring me, you'll get a fair percentage of…deal?_

_You're goin' down the wrong path, Peter._

_I'm beginnin' to wonder…maybe we should give it up…_

_You're turnin' out to be more an' more like your father an' I won't 'ave it!_

…_find the accused guilty of all charges against him…one year at Scotland Yard…_

_I'm sorry Mum._

_Promise me…_

…_transferred to Sudbury Airbase…_

_..been promoted to Corporal…_

_Dear Mavis…no longer on the ground…battle…Dunkirk…_

_That's our left wing! We need to abort!_

_Tommy!_

_They're dead._

_Quick, you must get inside…come back…after dark…_

_Les Boches are coming…_

_They're leavin'!_

_I don't give a bloody damn if you're a friggin' Frog or not…_

_Why do you care about me so much, Anglais?_

_We won't be marchin' forever._

_Steady, mon ami._

…_seem very fond of potatoes…_

_It was the Cockney!_

…_learned not to steal….now I will teach you…_

_Es gibt siebzehn Gefangene verpassend. (1)_

'_E left us…I feel all alone…Why did you leave me?_

_WAIT! DON'T SHOOT!…STOP! HOLD YOUR FIRE!_

…_I'd never imagined that I'd ever 'ave a friend like you._

_Where….Stalag XXXA…hard labor…._

…_I got me first letter!_

_Let's have a Christmas play…a talent show!_

_Best performance yet, Luke._

_Stephen McLean…best herder of ship that every lived…(2)_

_Luke…where'd they take you?_

…_it's murder, Louie…I wish we could do somethin'._

…_don't ye ever hit that boy again!_

…_Stephen!….no, please…don't shoot!_

…_tonight….we go tonight…_

_The lights are still on…where's Lawrence?_

_Marcel! Marcel!…Louie, we've got to go…leave 'im…go…run…don't look back…_

_Get in the cattle car…all of us?…raus!…I don't think we're meant to live through this, mate._

…_Luke, c'mon, you gotta wake up, mate…you're mad!…you made us that way…fire away, mate…._

…_get in the train, son…name?…and I'll never abandon you…_

…_kill you if you do…_

…_Stalag 13...Kommandant Wilhelm Klink…I'll call you Schultzie…_

_Why don't you tell him that?_

_You're nothin' more than a thief._

_You left us! You left us!…I should've never trusted you!_

_This is your last chance…don't look back…_

_Pierre! 'Ow can you just walk away from it?_

_If you be quiet, you will never have to see that mean man again…Promise?…I promise._

_We can 'it 'arder from 'ere, Pierre…save lives…change lives…Wot about us, Louie?_

_You mean it?…you would never leave us?_

_You said it yourself Limey…a nigger!_

_You didn't have to do that…'course I do, you're me mate, right?_

_..strictly an American camp…transferred from here immediately…_

_Kommandant, they've been through enough. Let them stay._

_This is your new home, Engl__ä__nder, Stalag 13...it's not so bad…_

_S'alright if I call you Guv'nor?_

_We've got a petunia in our garden…_

_Dear Peter…feels like the bombs never end…I'll give you London, you ruddy Kraut!_

…_feels colder and colder in here…there's a draft by me ear at night…_

_No, you cannot sleep on top, Andrew, you'll fall off._

_I need someone to volunteer…thank you Newkirk I knew I could count on you._

_An' I give you your enemy and mine, Adolf 'Itler!_

_Colonel Hogan, please, it would be worth my life._

_Why don't they disguise it as a munitions train!_

_It is missing the 'ead of an eel…that would've done it for me._

_Yeah, yeah, yeah, 'Appy Christmas to you too, Schultzie…just give me back my fruitcake an' you can go back out in the cold an' freeze your tail off. _

_Diiiiisssmiiised!_

_And you say the English are cruel._

_Fire away, Carter…no wonder you lost the West…_

_I frisked 'im, Colonel, 'e's got nothin' on 'im._

_You got it, boy, I mean sir!_

_Newkirk, I don't mind you taking off the label off these bottles but why did you leave the part on about 'shake before using?'_

_Mail caaaaallllll!_

_Tiger's here! Where's the Colonel?_

_Remember, we've got the real bullets._

_I don't know anything about war._

_London's on the line, Colonel._

_I'll fix you Williams!_

…_really a toothache…_

_Please, it would be worth my life._

_We're taking out two birds with one stone this time, fellas._

_I wouldn't mind tradin' spaces wif you!_

_The mere sight of traitors such as yourself makes me sick._

_Andr__é__. What are you doing?_

_André…means Andrew…André means…Louie…means….means…nothing._

_Why don't you tell him that?_

…_nothing more than a thief._

…_call me Sergeant Kinchloe._

_Take it…much o' any warnin'…'aven't noticed…_

_Andrew…Louie…Kinch…Guv'nor._

It was as if he was taking a gulp of fresh air after years of being at sea. And that set him off to struggle with his consciousness. He had to wake up. He could remember everything! He had to get up. He had to wake up. He just had to!

(1) Translation: there are seventeen prisoners missing.

(2) When Scottish or Irish people say "sheep", it sounds a lot like "ship". The McLean character is my own and from Scotland.

(3) Those quotes that Newkirk are remembering are a mixture of my own from stories I have been thinking about writing after this one, and some off the show during certain episodes. Most of the early quotes are my own. I didn't feel like citing all the ones from episodes, but I just wanted to let you know. You might've recognized some of them anyway, or they at least sounded familiar.


	21. Cliché After Cliché

**Chapter Twenty-One: C****liché**** A****fter**** C****liché **

The old man was leading them, and LeBeau had finally learned his name to be Malte. When he had heard the name, he immediately thought of a nice Scotch malt. He had first been introduced to one when he was very young, in his uncle's restaurant in Paris, the only place he wanted to go back to. His uncle had been showing him drinks that were favorites to different peoples around the world. He explained to young Louis how much the Scottish people enjoyed their malts. When LeBeau had been that young he had always treated anything from the British Isles with shrewd inquisition, because of all the rivalry he had sensed between the English and French.

But his uncle had straightened him out, "You do not have to worry about the Scots. They are not too fond of the English as well. And in my opinion, their taste in good drinks is better too."

Well, he had sort of straightened him out. _If only you could see me now, mon oncle._

LeBeau looked over at Kinch, who was slightly ahead of him but to his right. It was hard to see the dark man in the dark, and could only tell his position because of the moonlight glinting off the rifle he was carrying. There was a quarter moon, something they could have done without, but would have to deal with. They all had dark clothes on and hoped that would conceal them from searching eyes. Their footsteps were quieted some by the damp floor, but there was still the crunching of some leaves and twigs that was unavoidable. They cringed each time, but continued on steadily.

Finally, Malte raised his hand to tell them to stop. They all came close together.

"The house is directly ahead about fifty yards," Malte informed them.

"Okay," said Kinch. "Everyone remember how we're going to do this?" Everyone nodded. "Good. Good luck, and let's make this work. This is one mission that we can't fail."

LeBeau felt queasy. Since their failure on the previous mission, the thought of going out again was putting knots in his stomach. It was true that he got nervous before each mission, but nothing like now. Kinch was right; so much depended on this mission. LeBeau was hoping that their earlier failures did not transcend into this very important mission.

There was another set of collective nods; an understanding that ran through each of them. No more words were needed. Looks were exchanged, and they split up, headed for the cabin, and one man they were prepared to die for.

()()()()()()

Klink sighed; a very tired, drawn out sigh. These last few days, he felt, were drawn out to deliberately make him miserable. It felt like there was a crisis after crisis. The fire in the kitchen and mess hall. Colonel Hogan and his men escaping. The train bridge and cargo being blown up. General Burkhalter. Major Hochstetter. Hochstetter's disappearance. His guards being taken out. And now, a fire at the motor pool. He was just glad that his cars had been salvaged.

But the fire had shaken them all. The first fire had brought numerous problems, and no one wanted anymore problems. So, the cars had been saved, most of the equipment, and the fire quickly put out. And an inspection was made and it appeared that a gas container caught fire. How? Well, that could have been answered in numerously different ways. But no one was bothering to figure out why anymore. Why, they had come to believe, was a worthless question because it could no longer be answered to suit everyone.

After the fire was put out, the guards who had been selected to go with the Gestapo finally boarded the truck, and sped off into the night. It was now very late: around ten o'clock. Really, it was not all that late, but the wariness of each day without the usual rations, and the work effort in rebuilding the mess hall and kitchen was weighing down on every man. Patience was wearing thin, making every man exert more energy in picking fights at every cross word. So, the beds were welcomed when Klink sent the prisoners back into the barracks. The guards were rotated to work with the new shortage.

Then, everything was settled down once again at Stalag 13. As Klink lay back down in his bed, he prayed that it stayed that way. Still, as he closed his eyes, he knew that the peace would only last for a time, and he would embrace the peace while it lasted with a good sleep.

()()()()()()

Johann was sitting on the stairs inside the Bachmeiers' house, looking through the window of the front door. The lights inside the house were doused, hopefully to show to any prying eyes that the inhabitants were in bed. Johann glanced over at the grandfather clock on the mantle as it chimed. _Ten-thirty. _Those who had gone to rescue Colonel Hogan would definitely be there by now. He hoped they made it, because if they didn't it would be a larger mess to clean up or leave behind. There was no room for failure this time.

In his lap, Johann had a Luger. He was very much prepared to use it if he had to. His eyes were on the path that went from the road to the house, and all the land in front of the house that he could possibly see. Fortunately, the house was out in the open, which helped. The quarter moon was giving out quite a lot of light. There were scarcely any trees that one could hide behind, and any large number of people coming to the house would easily be spotted. If not by Johann, someone else who was watching.

Upstairs, watching from the hallway window was Geoff. Johann didn't know exactly what to think about him. He was glad that he had returned and that he had helped Kinch and LeBeau in giving them all that information. But Johann was remembering that saying. "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me." He had already been fooled more than once by his father, and had always, believing that Geoff would never do something so terrible, continued to trust him over and over again. But this time, this time it was way over their heads. Johann felt ashamed as well. He was ashamed that he had trusted him, thus letting Colonel Hogan trust him, thus getting Colonel Hogan captured.

Johann was purposely sitting at the bottom of the steps, because that was the only way to get downstairs. Johann was convinced that there was nothing now that Geoff could do that would ever really keep Johann's faith in him. True, he had sworn by his mother, and Johann stood by what he had said to Colonel Hogan earlier. Geoff would never swear lightly on her grave. Still, Johann was well aware of the other saying that "Actions speak louder than words" or "It's easier said than done."

Johann still did not completely trust his father.

Analiese walked from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee in her hands. She smiled at Johann and handed him one.

"_Danke_," said Johann gratefully.

She just nodded to him with a smile and walked up the stairs past him, to bring the other mug to Geoff. Johann sipped his coffee in a daze, his eyes still staring straight out into the night. He turned when he heard Analiese coming back down. She looked at him.

"I do not know the history between you and your father," she said. "But he misses you."

Johann looked away and drank some more of his coffee.

"You should talk," said Analiese. "When all of this is over."

Johann just nodded. Analiese walked away.

A few moments later, Johann stood up, and walked into the den. Karl was sitting in there, watching the back. Karl looked up at him when he came in.

"Something wrong," he asked.

"_Nein_," said Johann. "I am just going to have a walk around the grounds, to check up on everything."

"Sure," said Karl. "Analiese, keep an eye on the front will you?"

Analiese quickly took Johann's post at the stairs, and Johann slipped out of the kitchen door quietly. When Analiese heard him go, she remembered something and quickly went upstairs. She found Geoff sitting in a chair watching the front from the hallway window. He turned around when he heard her.

"I was just letting you know that Johann is going to patrol the grounds really quick," she said. "So do not be alarmed if you see someone just walking around."

"Okay," said Geoff. Analiese saw that he was fingering something, a hat. He saw that she was looking at it curiously. "Oh, uh, it's that kid's. The one that's wounded."

"Carter's," asked Analiese.

"_Nein_," said Geoff. "The other one. _Der Engländer_."

"Ah, Newkirk," said Analiese. "I would never call him a kid, but that is who you are talking about."

"I call them all kids," said Geoff. "If they're soldiers…I don't know, they all just look real young to me, no matter how old they get."

"Would you like me to give it to him," asked Analiese.

Geoff looked at it. "I think I will, later. Maybe when he wakes up. He's supposed to wake up soon, right?"

"We think so," said Analiese. "I'll go back down now. I have to watch the front."

She headed down the stairs.

But right before she had turned to go back down, a quick shadow crept across the porch silently.


	22. The Unexpected

**Chapter Twenty-Two: T****he**** U****nexpected**

Hogan was pacing the room that he and Johann had been sharing earlier. Fleischer had granted his wish and untied him, letting his body wander as much as his mind now. Once again, he felt responsible for the death of another person. Johann was not someone he could say was specifically close to him, but it saddened him to know that another person he had worked with was gone. Not to mention that their little ordeal from now had brought them to understand each other more. He had heard the gunshots, and knew that Johann was gone. It all felt really stupid, that Fleischer had kept Johann alive all that time, and then killed him at the end. What was the point?

But he knew the point. The point was to mess with him. Fleischer wanted to tear down Hogan as much as he could. And he was doing it. Fleischer was hitting Hogan hard and well every time another man died an unnecessary death. Pointless. Hogan did not think of himself as especially religious, but he had always told himself that things happened for a reason. Now, though, when things were happening that affected him more closely than before, he wasn't so sure. Yes, Fleischer was hitting everything right on the nose.

Hogan's adrenaline was pumping, and he could not be sure about why. Perhaps it was because he knew that tonight was probably the night; his men would not wait any longer unless something had gone wrong. Still, that would spur them to come faster. Maybe it was pumping because he had nothing else to do but pace and wish with all of his might that he could finally be rid of this hole and be with his men. Because he wanted to protect them and he couldn't. He wanted to protect all of them but that was humanly impossible. No; he had already made the decision that he and his team would have to die, to give the others a chance.

Suddenly, the keys rattled, and the door opened up. It was Mandel and another face he had not seen before. Mandel had his pistol pointed at Hogan. He motioned for him to move over to the wall. Hogan went over and faced the wall. The second man came over and handcuffed his hands behind his back. Then, at gunpoint, he was led out of the room.

They walked directly into what appeared to be the main room; the den and kitchen combined. It was fairly empty. There was a wooden table with some chairs, a torn and worn, thin rug over the dusty and dirty wooden floors. A cushioned chair was pushed up into one corner of the room on one side of the fireplace, which had a good fire going. There were two kerosene lamps: one on the table, and the other hanging over the stove, which had two pots on it. It mysteriously like _sauerkraut_.

_Figures,_ thought Hogan.

But there was a loaf of bread on the little counter beside the stove, and some coffee on one of the little burners at the stove. Inside the room stood Fleischer and another guard. Mandel's pistol nudged him in the back, and he was pushed over to the table. He sat down, and his hands were un-cuffed. But the two guards were watching them, automatics ready at a second's notice. He was not so keen on trying anything right now.

Mandel moved around so that he was standing slightly behind and to the side of the Fleischer, like any right-hand-man would. Hogan thought about how his men did that, and a little shiver went down his spine. Fleischer smiled down at Hogan and then set a piece of blank paper and a pencil in front of him. He took a step back, still smiling devilishly.

Hogan looked at Fleischer, and then back at the paper, and then back at Fleischer.

"Anything in particular that you want me to do," asked Hogan.

"I have a feeling that your men will not do anything unless they see it in your handwriting," said Fleischer.

The knot in Hogan's stomach tightened as he realized what Fleischer was saying. He was to write his last orders to his men, which would be sent back to Stalag 13 through whatever means Fleischer really cared to use.

"What exactly did you want me to say," asked Hogan. He wasn't eager to get started.

"You know what I want you to say," said Fleischer. "Really Hogan, I know you have a good memory."

"I do," said Hogan. "That's one of the things I pride myself on, you know. But you see, a lot's happened since you told me all of that. Maybe…maybe you could refresh my memory for me?"

Fleischer put his hands on the table across from Hogan and leaned over, so low that his face blocked most of the light from the kerosene lamp. A shadow was cast over both of their faces as they glared at one another.

"Tell them to leave," he said. "Tell them that you have been killed, and so have your men. Tell them that I know everything about the operation and if they do not leave within three days, or at least disband the operation, then they will all be shot. Every—last—man."

Hogan did not move a muscle. He wanted to jump up and strangle the man, but that would only get him killed faster. He just continued to glare at Fleischer as if he could kill the man by looking as hard as he could straight into his eyes. But that was the thing; so did Fleischer. It was like the fact that the best fights are the ones where both men in the ring want to take the other out just as badly. The fight is long and drawn out, so that both men become so exhausted, it's a playground fight by the end, where they're both struggling just to raise their head and keep a steady rhythm with their feet and hands.

Finally, their little test of wills was broken when both, simultaneously, looked away. Hogan looked at the paper and Fleischer stood back, looking into the fireplace.

"Just write," said Fleischer. "Your men are probably on their way, and if this is not written in time, I will just have to send the message myself, when I go to the camp with Major Hochstetter and practically the keys to your tunnels."

At the mention of Hochstetter, Hogan scowled. It was blessing that that man was not involved so far. Besides, if Hochstetter had the chance to shoot one of his men he thought he would puke out of anger and sickness. As before, Fleischer was hitting everything on the nose. So, Hogan picked up the pencil, stared at the blank piece of paper for a moment and then started writing.

_To the men at Stalag 13 under the command of Colonel Robert E. Hogan:_

_ This is my last will and testament, for if you are reading this then someone has finally succeeded in discovering our operation and executing not only me, but my first-string men: Technical Sergeant Andrew Carter, Sergeant James Kinchloe, Corporal Louis LeBeau, and Corporal Peter Newkirk. _

_ I know that this is most likely a shock to you all, but you must have known that we were in some kind of danger when we did not return from our mission two days ago. So, now that the end has really come, you must take these following steps to insure that your lives are not forfeited as well:_

_ We are to disband the operation completely. Contact with the Underground and London is to cease immediately. All documents, maps, codes, ect., are to be destroyed immediately. I leave the command of all of this to Sergeant Richard Baker. The role of Senior POW Officer will be decided by Klink when he finally realizes that we are not coming back. But all things regarding the operation are to be decided by Sergeant Baker. _

_ Once the destruction of the operation is complete, escaping is up to each individual prisoner in the camp. You do not need to destroy the tunnels. I suggest you use them before anyone gets wise. _

_ I understand that none of us ever thought of disbanding the operation if someone was killed, if it could be helped. But this cannot be helped. We have been betrayed. There is someone who knows of our operation and has threatened that if it does not end, he will bring the Gestapo in and uncover the operation for them. As it is, no one in the camp would be spared. Everyone would be shot as spies and saboteurs. As enough people have died on my account, I will not have any more unnecessary deaths. So, as my last order to everyone in the camp, all operations must cease. Please, do this for me, and the men who have died to protect you. Do not let their deaths have been in vain._

_ I would also like to say that I have never had a more interesting or amazing crew of people to work with, and I do not mean only those I worked with everyday. Every man in our camp has made sacrifices that other soldiers could never imagine. When you gave up your chance to escape, to be a free man once again, and to live under the thumb of the Nazis, you showed me how brave you were. For those reasons I could never order you to stay, but your cooperation has been most important to our mission that ALL of us have worked so hard on. Thank you for that._

_Godspeed to you all and may- _

The paper was snatched up by Mandel.

"What is taking you so long," he asked.

It had not really been that long, but Hogan had gotten engrossed in the letter, wishing he could put everything he felt into words for his men to read. Fleischer was now by the mantle, smoking and looking into the fire. The guards were still watching Hogan. Mandel skimmed through the letter.

"Aww, are we being sentimental here," he asked in peevish voice. "Poor Colonel Hogan wants all of his little boys back at camp to be safe and go home to their mothers. You are all soft. You will lose the war for that."

"Being soft and caring is what makes us better people than you creeps," spat back Hogan. He held out his hand. "Now let me finish. I was just going to write one more sentence."

Mandel scowled but slapped the paper down on the table. Hogan pulled it over to him and smoothed the wrinkles in it. He picked up where he had left off.

_-you all live free again and see peace in the world._

_ Your commanding officer, _

_ Colonel Robert E. Hogan_

He placed down the pencil and glanced at it, skimming through his words. Once he was satisfied that he had said everything he could say, he pushed it away. Mandel picked it up. He folded it, and stuck it in his pocket.

"This will get to them when you and your men's carcasses are rotting in this cabin," he jeered.

Hogan glared at him and sat back in the chair.

"Now what," asked one of the guards.

Fleischer flicked his cigarette into the fire. "We wait. They will be here eventually. And we will know when."

It had barely been a second after he finished speaking when suddenly, the door bust open, and another guard came in, holding onto someone putting up a fight. Finally, he was able to shove the person in. The captive fell to the ground and popped right back up, but was stopped on his knees, when a guard put a gun to his head.

Hogan felt his heart plummet.

Kneeling there in front of him was LeBeau.

()()()()()()

Johann never went too far away from the house. He stayed out in the open, away from the shadows hoping to not be taken by surprise by anything. His eyes, of course, were away from the house, towards the forest and the fields with the tall grass. When he came around to the front of the house, he peered down the path that went to the road, and around the tended grounds. It was quiet, except for the bugs and sounds of small animals scurrying about. There was no definite crunch of a man's boot or twig snapping. Nothing to make him suspicious.

Really, he was making his rounds to get out of the house. He did not want to talk or listen about his father. And he was becoming restless, being stuck here. He knew someone had to stay, but boy were they the misfit crew to stick around: the elderly and wounded.

He stopped his mind from wandering and focused at the task at hand. After making two rounds, and finding nothing amiss, he headed back inside. He went to the front door where Analiese would see him easily enough from the stairs. When he came to the bottom of the porch steps, he looked up and saw Analiese's shadow coming to the door to open it. But before he could take one step, he was grabbed from behind, and yanked to the ground.

He cried out since his injured shoulder was grabbed and wrenched. He fell to the ground, on top of whoever had grabbed him. But they had one hand pulling on his shoulder, and their other arm around his neck, attempting to strangle him. Still, he struggled, kicking and elbowing his attacker. His Luger was in its holster, and he was trying to get a hand on it. But by the time, he could reach down, he felt that it was already gone. And then, he felt cold steel against his head. He froze.

"That is what I thought," whispered his attacker.

Johann was still as the man got up, pulling him up with him, still straining his shoulder. When they stood up, Johann saw that the front door was wide open. No doubt, Analiese had opened the door, and then seeing Johann being attacked had run to find her husband. No more than a second later, Analiese and Karl were there. Karl had his rifle raised, and took a step outside onto the porch. Analiese stood directly behind him, watching with fear, but also looking at the stranger with some anger.

"Not a step closer old man," said the attacker. "Or this man here won't have any brains left."

"What do you want," asked Karl.

"You are keeping two men in your house," he said. "My Captain wants them."

"You won't be getting them," said Karl.

"Oh," said the attacker. "Well, he doesn't want them alive. He just wants them dead."

Johann struggled a bit more, but the attacker wrenched his shoulder again. He gritted his teeth but couldn't stop a little groan from escaping him. His attacker chuckled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said.

"You won't get them dead or alive," said Johann. "And you've done a rotten job of coming here like this. Even if you kill me, you won't get away from him, or anyone else in the house."

"Well," said the attacker mockingly. "Even if you kill me, you won't be able to save those boys. Because while you are all over here, guess where my other man is?"

Analiese gasped and started to run back, but Karl stopped her.

"Stay here," he ordered authoritatively. She froze.

"But Karl—".

"He is bluffing," stated Karl.

"No, old man," said the attacker. "You're bluffing. I'm not bluffing about any of this."

"Really," asked Karl. He took another step forward.

Johann closed his eyes tightly.

Then, the gunshot came. There was a cry, a shout, and then he was struck on the head. He fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Karl watched the attacker, holding his arm, run around the house. Cursing himself for being taken by surprise like that, he raised his rifle and fired at the man. But he missed, and the man kept running. Karl ran after him. Analiese almost stopped him, but knew there was nothing she could do. She ran down the steps to where Johann lay unconscious and the Luger lay beside him. Checking him over, she saw that he was more or less okay.

Suddenly, she heard pounding footsteps from inside. She jumped up, alarmed, and saw Geoff rushing down the stairs two at a time. Without so much as a glance outside the front door, he ran towards the den and disappeared from view. Analiese looked up at the window where Geoff had been looking from. It was cracked open just enough for someone to take a good shot from.

()()()()()()

Carter nearly fell off the bed trying to get to his gun, which was on the chest at the foot of the bed. He had set it there when he had gotten up to go to the bathroom, and then never picked it back up when he came to sit down again. But he had hardly sat down for a second when there were shouts and gun fire. Ignoring the shooting pain in his leg, he scrambled for the gun. But as soon as he put his hand on the gun, there was a little rustle, and he froze.

The window was open because the room was warm. Now, he knew he had a problem when he looked over and saw that someone was climbing inside. The intruder was doing it awkwardly, and Carter saw that his arm was bleeding. No doubt because of the gun fire Carter had heard only a few moments earlier. In his other hand was a Lugar, pointed right at Carter. But it wasn't the Lugar that was making Carter so scared. It was the fact that he did not know where anyone else was. What had happened to them?

The intruder motioned for Carter to move away from the gun. Carter slowly did, with his hands up. He hobbled around to the other side of the bed, where Newkirk lay, oblivious to everything. Carter wished he could be as oblivious. Then, the door burst open and Geoff skidded into the room, gun drawn and pointed at the intruder.

"Well," said the intruder. "Another old man is it? Look, why don't you just let me kill these two and you can live your life out to its short end. Actually, your life I expect will turn out to be shorter. The Captain isn't too happy that you ran away."

"I made my decision," said Geoff. "And your Captain can deal with it however he wants to."

The intruder smiled oddly, and took a step back, to close the window. He never took his eyes off Geoff, just slid the window shut, and pulled on the curtains some. He stole a glance to Carter and Newkirk.

"So," he said. "These are the wounded kittens. My, my, that one does not look so well, does he?"

"He's fine," defended Carter angrily. "He's just asleep."

"Really," asked the intruder. "I would have to disagree."

"We don't care about what you or your Captain thinks," said Geoff. "Or anyone else for that matter. Now, I suggest you leave and never come back."

"What old man," asked the intruder. "Are you going to shoot me?"

He flicked his wrist, the only indication that he was about to fire. Carter dove on top of Newkirk, his eyes shut tightly. Two shots were fired, and the room went still.


	23. Of Rescues

**Chapter Twenty-Three: O****f**** R****escues**

Hogan stared at LeBeau with utter sadness. He knew that this was what Fleischer intended. He knew that they were all supposed to be captured like this. But now that it was happening…

"LeBeau," he cried. "Why did you come here? You've got to get out. You've got to get the others and go!"

LeBeau had a pained expression on his face, mixed with anger towards the other men in the room. He wanted to tell Colonel Hogan that everything would be okay. He wanted to tell him that he would be free, and that Newkirk wasn't dead, and that Johann had escaped.

Mandel smiled, watching Hogan so distressed. He walked over to the table, and pulled out the paper that Hogan had written. "Now, now, Colonel, they can't leave. That would be going against what we agreed on, wouldn't it?"

"I did not agree to anything with you," growled Hogan. He disliked Mandel more with every passing second. "I agreed with your Captain. Now get out of my face."

_You tell him, mon Colonèl,_ thought LeBeau with an inward smile.

Mandel was about to reply with a nice punch in the gut, but Fleischer stopped him.

"Mandel," he said. "Don't. If he is not in good shape when the others come, they might put up more of a fight." He walked over to LeBeau. "Unless they are all as small as this little guy." He nudged LeBeau with his foot. LeBeau did not look directly at him, but kind of glanced over annoyingly.

"Leave him alone," said Hogan quickly.

"You had better be quiet, Colonel," said Fleischer. "I was going to wait until I had them all, but if you do not keep your mouth shut, I might just end it more quickly for this one."

Hogan snapped his jaw shut, but continued to glare at Fleischer. Then, he saw LeBeau looking at him. He looked over, and saw that LeBeau was giving him a little smile. What was that supposed to mean? Was he accepting what was happening? Or did he know something Hogan did not? Hogan truly hoped that it was the latter. He could not see how that was true, because now his brain was muddled with the thoughts of his men dying.

Fleischer smiled when he saw Hogan quickly shut his mouth. Hogan's devotion to his men was something Fleischer could never really comprehend, even though he prided himself on being fair to his own men. But he would never give up his life for any of them. He just let them think that. On the other side, Hogan's men were just as devoted, and Fleischer could never understand that either. That is why he could never be prepared for what was going to happen.

"Put this man in the other room," said Fleischer, giving LeBeau another nudge.

The guard who had brought him in jerked LeBeau up by one arm. He pushed him further into the room. Then, he put the barrel of his gun against LeBeau's back, and they started walking towards the back room that Hogan had been held in earlier. Just as he passed Hogan, LeBeau gave him a small wink. Hogan's expression never changed, though. Inwardly, however, he was feeling pure joy. Something was up! LeBeau had not been captured by accident!

Then, to prove it, there were simultaneously several, very distinguished clicks of guns being readied for fire. Everyone heard them. Mandel and Fleischer looked up at one another. The guards looked at each other, and then outside. The guard with LeBeau turned around, his gun still on the Frenchman. LeBeau just smiled, looking out the window. Hogan followed his gaze through the window.

He instantly recognized Franz and Pepin standing there, their guns pointed into the house. Through the window by the door, Hogan could see two other men, recognized to be in the Underground. Then, the door, which had never been closed when the guard brought in LeBeau, gave way to a few more shadows.

The next thing happened so quick, Hogan hardly had time to digest it all. Mandel made a move to pull his gun on Hogan, when one shot was fired, striking Mandel in the chest. He collapsed onto the ground, gasping and holding his chest. Hogan, anticipating more gunfire, rolled off from the chair, and underneath the table. Fleischer lunged for him, and more shots were fired. Hogan did not see who was hit and who fired. He grabbed Mandel's gun, though, and then looked up. One of the guards was down as well, bleeding from his neck. The second guard and Fleischer were underneath one of the windows, clutching their guns. The door was shut, but that hardly mattered. The other window was shattered, and Pepin and Franz had clear shots of Fleischer and the other guard.

Hogan whirled around when he suddenly heard another scuffle. LeBeau and the other guard both had their hands on a pistol, and were trying to pull it away from the other's hands. They were kicking and punching and doing everything they could to the other man. For LeBeau's size, he was definitely putting up a helluva fight. Glancing back at Fleischer and the other guard, he saw that they were giving up their guns, having seen that Franz and Pepin could take them out whenever they wanted to. Satisfied, Hogan turned back to LeBeau's fight. He scrambled over before anything could happen, and put Mandel's pistol to the guard's head. The guard froze. LeBeau pulled the gun out of his hand, and also pointed it at him.

"_Merci, mon Colonèl,_" he said. "You know 'ow I 'ate the sight of blood."

Hogan chuckled at the guard's confused look. He turned around when the door opened. Kinch stepped in, looking down at Fleischer and the other guard with contempt. Behind him came Franz, Pepin, and the four other Underground members that Hogan recognized. All he knew was that they were friends, and he was safe, and his men would not be killed and the operation would continue, and there was nothing Fleischer could do about it.

When everyone was inside, Hogan could not believe his eyes. Kinch walked over, and for a moment they just looked at each other. Then, Kinch held out his hand.

"Well, Colonel?"

Hogan grabbed it and pulled Kinch into a quick hug.

"Trust me, I'm grateful," he said. He looked at LeBeau, as the third guard was pushed over to where Fleischer and his other man were. LeBeau gave a kiss to Hogan on each cheek.

"_Mon Colonèl_," he said. "You 'ave no idea 'ow grateful we are too. We know what Fleischer planned for us. But we knew we could not let that 'appen."

"Listen," said Hogan. "I didn't want to do it. I really didn't. But the other men…at the camp, I couldn't let all of them get killed, and—".

Kinch cut him off when he put his hand on Hogan's shoulder. "Don't worry," he said. "We all would've done the same thing. You made the right choice, Colonel, and we would never expect anything different from you."

Hogan was truly touched, and he looked at LeBeau only to see the same thoughts expressed on his face.

"Well, um, thanks," he finally said. "Thanks for everything." Then, he was struck with a thought. "Wait, how's Carter? He got to you guys, didn't he?"

"_Oui_," said LeBeau calmly. "'E did. 'E is well. But,_ Colonèl_, there is more. Newkirk, 'e is alive."

Hogan just looked at LeBeau with pure disbelief. "Wh—what?"

"_C'est vrai,_" exclaimed LeBeau with excitement. "'E is going to be okay. In fact I would not even be surprised if 'e is awake by the time we return."

Hogan looked back and forth between LeBeau and Kinch several times, still trying to comprehend what they were telling him. "But…but Fleischer told me he was dead. Told me he had died last night or the night before, I can't remember, but he told me he was dead…gone."

"He was lying, sir," said Kinch.

"He just wanted to mess with me," finished Hogan. "And it worked."

"It would 'ave worked on me too,_ Colonèl,_" assured LeBeau. "We all care for each other dearly. If 'e 'ad told me that one of you was dead, I would be taken down too." He smiled. "But it's all over. You're safe now, Newkirk is going to be awake soon, and Carter is getting better as well. Oh, and Johann got back to us. He escaped."

Hogan suddenly felt like he needed to sit down. It was as if people were coming back from the dead to him. First Newkirk, and now Johann. And Carter was fine. And here was LeBeau and Kinch, standing next to him, after _rescuing_ him. The turn of events was making him dizzy, as it seemed that everyone knew more than he did. Everyone knew what was going on except for him, something he was not used to.

"Anything else I should know," he asked with a smile. He was waiting for someone to tell him that Hitler had been shot and the war was over.

"No, sir," said Kinch. "Just that it's time for you to get of here. Are you okay? Injured anywhere?"

Hogan blinked; that thought had never occurred to him. He shook his head. "No. Surprisingly, I wasn't beat up or anything. Not really. Just a few bruises. And I'm pretty hungry too."

"Well," said LeBeau. "You do not 'ave to worry about that. _Madame_ Bachmeier 'as been making us delicious food for us to eat. I 'ave a feeling that she would be more than glad to serve you anything you wanted."

"I'll eat anything," said Hogan. "But c'mon, let's not hang around here any longer than we have to."

"I second that," said Kinch. "What do you want us to do with this place?"

Hogan looked around. "We'll torch it. What did you guys do with the guards outside?"

"Got rid of them," said Kinch stoically. He met Hogan's gaze, and Hogan just nodded.

"That's fine," he said plainly. "Bring their bodies in here and we'll let them burn with the house."

While Franz and Pepin kept their eyes and guns on Fleischer and his two men left over, the others went outside to collect the bodies of the guards they surprised outside. Kinch and LeBeau inspected the place for anything useful or anything that pointed to them. Hogan saw that all the guards from outside had slit throats; the quiet way of getting rid of them. LeBeau averted his eyes from the blood.

Hogan then noticed Mandel lying on the ground, having long passed on. There was a large blood stain on his chest. Hogan knelt down, and pulled a folded piece of paper from Mandel's breast pocket. There was some blood on it.

_Justice_, he thought, giving Mandel a reproaching look. He got up and tossed the paper into the fire.

"What was that, sir," asked Kinch.

"Nothing," said Hogan. "Just some evidence they had on us."

"Good riddance," said LeBeau.

_You have no idea_, thought Hogan. He grimaced, remembering the words that he had written, thinking that they would have been the last time Stalag 13 would have heard from him. His grimace did not go unnoticed by Kinch or LeBeau.

"_Mon Colonèl,_" asked LeBeau. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," said Hogan. "Just a little sore. Let's get out of here."

The brought out Fleischer and his two men, and using some oil from the lamps they torched the house. It took a moment or two for the rest of the house to pick up because of the earlier rain, but soon enough it was fully ablaze. They stood back, on the edge of the clearing, watching the little cabin burn. Rope had been found and Fleischer and his men were tied together in a line. When they were all secured to everyone's satisfaction, they started to leave the clearing.

"You know," said Fleischer. "It's too bad all of you are here."

"What is that supposed to mean," asked Hogan quickly. He was now suspicious of everything that Fleischer said.

"Well," began Fleischer. "I figured that if any move like this was made, everyone you were working with would come. That would leave the Bachmeier house rather open and unprotected, would it not?"

He did not have to speak another word. Franz and Pepin were the first ones to start running as fast as they could into the woods and back home. LeBeau darted after them. Kinch looked to Hogan to see what he was going to do. Fleischer was laughing boisterously.

Hogan looked to the other four Underground members. He pointed to Fleischer. "Don't let him or these other dogs go, or it won't be just them you're worrying about!"

With that, he took off into the woods, with Kinch at his side.

()()()()()()

Karl turned the corner of the house, only to find that the man had disappeared. Breathing hard, Karl scanned the yard, his rifle still raised. After about a minute, he heard the sound of a window being slid shut. He turned, looking right at the window that led into the guest bedroom. Knowing that he could not just shoot blindly into the room without risking hitting Carter and Newkirk, he ran into the house through the backdoor, coming into the den. He saw that the door to the guest bedroom was wide open. He started running for the door, when two gun shots were heard. He stopped, fearing the worst, and then compelled himself to keep moving.

When he entered the room, he gasped in surprise.

Lying on the floor near the doorway was Geoff, bleeding from his chest. On the other side of the room, beside the window, was the intruder, a bullet between his eyes, clearly dead. Karl quickly knelt beside Geoff, pulling open his shirt.

"Geoff," he said, unconsciously using the man's first name for the first time. "What happened? You have to speak to me Geoff."

Through gasps of pain, Geoff began to talk. "I shot him from the upstairs window…when he had Johann. I saw him run around the house…so…so I came here. When, when I got here, he was already in the room. The kids…" His eyes glazed over for a moment, and he looked over to the bed, where Carter was looking down at him with sadness. "…the boys couldn't do anything." He reached in his coat pocket, as if oblivious of what was going on. He pulled out a ruffled and wrinkled newsboy hat. "His hat…the boy's…that thief…his hat." Karl nodded and took it from him.

"Go on, Geoff," he urged. He started to put pressure on the wound, and Geoff winced.

"He was going to shoot them," continued Geoff. "I...I couldn't let him. They're…they're just kids…young."

"I know what you mean," said Karl. He was seeing that he and Geoff, although having never met and having had different views of one another from the beginning, had some things in common.

Geoff almost smiled, and then grimaced again. "Johann…Johann…where is he?"

"Outside," said Karl. "He was hit on the head. But he'll be okay."

"Good," said Geoff softly. "Good. He was always a good kid. Took…" He faltered, and coughed chokingly. Karl reached up and felt his pulse. It was erratic and soft. He looked at Geoff, and the other man read his eyes. "I know. But Johann…always took…took after his mother."

"I am sure he took after you in some ways," said Karl.

"No," said Geoff, strained. He coughed again. "He was always better than me. Always."

They were silent for a moment, and then Carter limped over. He looked down at Geoff.

"Thank you," he said. "For saving me and Peter's life. You're one of the bravest men I've ever known."

Geoff tried to chuckle, but only coughed some more. "You're wrong, boy, wrong." He looked at Karl. "Tell Johann…tell him—".

"Father," asked a voice from outside the room.

Geoff's eyes lighted up for a moment when he heard it.

"In here," called Karl.

Johann walked into the room, and gasped when he saw Geoff lying on the ground. He quickly knelt down, and Karl moved out of the way. Johann pulled his father's head into his lap.

"Father," he said. "I'm sorry for everything I said to you. I blamed you for so much. I'm so sorry."

Geoff smiled. "So much like…like Mother. I'll give her…your love." He coughed again.

"Father," asked Johann. He looked up at Karl, who shook his head.

"Johann," said Geoff. "Thank you for showing me how to become a good man. You were a good son. And I love you very much for that."

With that said, he drifted off, letting his eyes close, his breathing cease, and his pulse drift off into nothing. Life's little Morse code broke off, and Geoff Krieger passed on.


	24. Reunion

**Chapter Twenty-Four: R****eunion**

Johann stared down at his father for a long moment, realizing that he had passed on. His eyes began to tear up, but he wiped them away and sniffed. Words could not explain what he was feeling.

He looked up at Karl and Analiese who were standing over him. Analiese was wiping her eyes on her shawl and Karl was just looking at Johann with a concerned look on his face.

"We should move him," said Johann.

"_Ja, ja_," said Karl. "We will put him in the den. Analiese, will you—".

"I'll do it right away," Analiese answered, and she left the room quickly.

Johann did not get up at first. He re-buttoned Geoff's shirt and jacket, covering up the nasty wound. When he was through, he began to stand up. Karl knelt down and they both picked up Geoff gently and carried him from the room.

Carter watched the whole procession with deep sadness. He had never seen something like that before. He had looked at Geoff as a traitor of sorts, but then he had rushed in saving his life and Newkirk's. That was something Carter felt he would always be in debt for.

Johann and Karl came back in, and took out the intruder's body. Carter watched them go with disdain. Then, something on the floor caught his eye. It was Newkirk's hat. Carter suddenly remembered giving it to Geoff to hold when they found Newkirk in the woods. He had forgotten all about it. He walked over and picked it up, noting that it was miraculously still in perfect shape, except for the fact that it was wrinkled. He absentmindedly began to smooth it out.

"Andrew."

Carter looked up, thinking that someone had called him from the den. He took a step towards the door, and poked his head out. But Analiese was laying a white sheet over Geoff, and Karl and Johann were nowhere to be seen. Analiese did not even notice him looking in.

"Andrew…Louie…"

Carter did not move. He just stood there, hoping to God that it was no trick of his mind. That voice…that croaking, cocky voice! He slowly turned around and looked at the bed.

"Kinch? Guv'nor?"

Carter found once again that he could not move. There was Newkirk, blinking his eyes and moving his head around, confused, sounding scared but awake. Carter opened his mouth, trying to speak, but nothing came out. Then, he shook his head.

"PETER! PETER, YOU'RE AWAKE!"

Carter, as quick as he could move, went over to the bed, and leaned over Newkirk, inches from his face, beaming.

"You're awake! Thank God, you finally woke up!"

Footsteps, and then Analiese was in the room. "Andrew? Andrew, what are you screaming about?"

Without looking at her, Carter exclaimed. "It's Peter! He woke up!"

"Oh, _Gott_," said Analiese excitedly. "I will go get some broth warm. He will be hungry, and he will…" She left the room muttering to herself everything thing she could possibly think of that would make Newkirk feel better.

Carter was still looking down at Newkirk. When Carter had yelled, he had closed his eyes, and was trying to keep his head from spinning again. He heard Carter.

"Peter? Peter, just open your eyes one more time," he was pleading.

Newkirk was so overjoyed at being able to hear that voice, sounding so real, that he opened his eyes again. He was looking right up at Carter's smiling face.

"That really you Andrew," he managed to ask, in a hoarse whisper.

If it was possible, Carter would have smiled wider. He slowly lowered himself to his good knee, so that his chin rested on his hands on the bed.

"You bet it's me," he answered. "How you feeling?"

Newkirk thought for a moment, but continued to stare at Carter; as if he looked away he would not be there when he looked back. He began to try to move everything. As he breathed, he was wheezing, and it felt like someone was jabbing him quickly on his left side every time he took a breath. He moved his hands and feet, and found that it was difficult to move his left hand and that it ached badly. His right side of his back was throbbing dully. His head just felt sweaty and heavy. Lastly, he just felt very sore, like he had just worked a very long day.

"It hurts to breathe," he finally answered. That was what concerned him the most. His voice was still hoarse and his throat scratchy.

Carter nodded. "You have a couple of broken ribs, buddy, but Karl said you'll pull through."

"Who," croaked Newkirk.

"Karl," answered Carter.

Just then, Karl came into the room with his medical bag. "Move aside Andrew. I need to have a good look at him before he moves very much. I need to know if anything else hurts or not."

Carter moved to the foot of the bed, and sat up on it. Newkirk followed him with his eyes. Then, when Karl stood over him, he looked up at the older man.

"Karl," said Newkirk. Then he glanced around the room. "Wot we doin' 'ere?"

Carter opened his mouth, and then couldn't figure out where to start. For the first time, he couldn't find anything else to say except: "It's a long story. But trust me, you'll hear it. Just not right now."

Newkirk just looked at him with slight confusion. Then, Analiese came bustling back in. She was carrying a tray with a bowl of steaming broth and a glass of cool water accompanied with a jug. She set the tray down on the bedside table.

"We need some more light in here," she remarked. Quickly, she turned on the lamp.

Newkirk squeezed his eyes shut. He heard Carter chuckle. It was a heartwarming sound. He opened his eyes again slowly, blinking into the light.

"Sorry," he heard Analiese say.

When he finally got his eyes open, he saw her looking at him with a warm, yet worried, smile on her face. Newkirk wanted to smile, but it was as if his body just wasn't quite responding yet. Analiese was his second mother, and he could see that she was deeply worried, if not over him, something else.

"'Ello Mum," he whispered, seeing as his voice was not going to go any higher.

"Oh, you need some water," said Analiese, picking up the glass. But Karl held up his hands.

"Analiese, _bitte_," he said. "Before Peter moves at all, I need to look him over." Analiese set the glass down, and Carter chuckled again. Karl looked down at Newkirk. "Hold on there, boy. I just need to make sure I didn't miss anything or nothing has gotten worse. I don't believe anything did, but just in case, okay?"

Newkirk nodded, and closed his eyes slowly. His thoughts were rather muddled, but he was concentrating on just getting through the exam and then some food and water. He wasn't so much hungry, but his throat was dry and he was craving some kind of liquid to cool it.

Karl poked and prodded him, testing movement in some joints. He asked yes and no questions, so that all Newkirk did was nod or shake his head. He would grimace and Karl would let off the pressure. It was very quiet in the room for awhile; until Karl asked Newkirk to try and sit up. Newkirk used his right hand only, since his left wrist was broken. He started to sit up, when there was shooting pain in his back. He groaned and let himself fall back down against the pillow, closing his eyes wearily. His head was spinning again, and when he opened his eyes, he was seeing two of Karl.

Karl shook his head. "It may be broken more badly than I thought."

Newkirk looked at him questioningly.

"You broke your back," stated Karl.

Newkirk groaned in response, just because he was miserable as it was and did not need anything more to be hurting.

"You need to roll over," said Karl. "So that I can see it."

Newkirk nodded, and with Carter's help, rolled over, making his head a top again. He buried his face in the pillow because it was cool and dark. He felt Karl push up his shirttail and gently touch his back. The pressure only hurt a little. Then, Karl went slightly further down, and pressed down again. Newkirk looked up.

"That was it, mate," he said. He tried to see his back, but could hardy arch it.

"As I thought," said Karl, watching Newkirk stop trying to look back. "It is more of a stress fracture, but painful nonetheless. It is swelled up badly, though, because your body was probably thrown around a bit from the explosion."

"Wot," asked Newkirk.

"The explosion," said Carter. "Don't you remember that?"

Newkirk frowned, until it all came back to him. He nodded. "Yeah. But wait, where's everyone else?"

"Slow down, buddy," said Carter. "I told you, it's a long story. They're all okay. They just had to go take care of some things." _At least I hope they're okay. _He really didn't have the heart to tell Newkirk that Colonel Hogan was possibly dead, and that LeBeau and Kinch purposely walked into a trap to go save him. Seeing as Newkirk was disoriented enough, he didn't want to confuse him or worry him anymore.

Newkirk just nodded and laid his head back down on the pillow as Karl gently continued his ministrations. After about another fifteen minutes, Newkirk's bandages were changed. His wrist, ribs and back were appropriately wrapped, and the bandages on his head were removed, which relieved some of the throbbing he was feeling. He was able to sit up, as long as he kept his back straight, and leaned against the headboard. Karl said the pain would lessen each day as long as Newkirk did not strain it. When Karl was finished, it was time for Analiese to perform her motherly duties. She made sure Newkirk was as comfortable as possible, and got him some water, so that his throat was not as scratchy. She didn't stick around for him to eat, because she knew that Carter would most likely want to be with his friend alone.

When she left the room, Carter got up and sat next to Newkirk on the bed, his bad leg outstretched. That was the first time Newkirk noticed it. He gave Carter a worried look.

"You got shot," he asked.

"Yeah. But so did you," answered Carter. Newkirk gave him a suspicious look, as if he knew that Carter was keeping something from him. Carter had hoped that Newkirk wouldn't ask any questions until the others came back. It was a long story, and they knew more than him in some places. "But don't worry. I can't explain it all now. When the others get back, we'll tell you everything."

"Sure," said Newkirk. "But you really alright, Andrew?"

Carter smiled and picked up the bowl of broth. "Hungry?"

Newkirk nodded. "A bit."

Carter held the bowl while Newkirk spooned it to himself with his good hand. He was rather shaky at first, but was not going to let Carter feed him. As soon as the first bite hit his mouth he was ready for more. He was hungrier than he had realized, now that he was eating. It was easily gone in a few minutes. Analiese came back in around that time, with some warm bread.

"_Mein Gott_," she said. "You ate that already. Well, it's only natural that you would be hungry. You've been out of it for three days now."

"Three days," echoed Newkirk. He looked at Carter. "You need to tell me somethin' mate."

"Okay," said Carter. "You remember the explosion, right?" Newkirk nodded. "Well, you were in a coma, and for at least the first day, you weren't supposed to live. Meaning, we were sure you weren't going to make it. You were that bad off. But, you certainly didn't give up, and you started to get better. So, we knew you would wake up eventually, it was just when."

"So we've been 'ere for three days," asked Newkirk. "But how? I mean, we've probably got the Gestapo an' 'Ochstetter an' ole Klink sendin' the cavalry after us."

"Well," said Carter. "There's a lot more going on. But like I said, I just can't tell you all of it right now. I don't know half of it myself. But I tell you some more. When you fell off that bridge, we thought you were dead. So, we were just going back to camp, following the river like we had planned. We had Johann and Geoff with us too. But Geoff betrayed us, and—".

"Wait a minute," said Newkirk. "Who's Geoff?"

"Johann's father, the man we picked up on the train," answered Carter.

"Oh," said Newkirk. "Go on."

"Yeah, so—".

But he was interrupted again, this time by the sound of a door bursting open and then Pepin's voice.

"_MUTTER! VATER!"_

Carter looked over towards the bedroom door, and then at Newkirk with a smile. "They're back!"

"Well why do they sound so terrified," asked Newkirk wryly.

"I don't know," replied Carter, his brow furrowed in confusion.

They heard Analiese answer. "Pepin? Franz? Oh, I'm so glad you're home—".

"You are alright, _Mutter,_" asked Franz. "Where's _Vater_?"

"He is outside with Johann," said Analiese. "What is wrong?"

But no one could answer her, because then Hogan came barreling into the kitchen through the side door.

"Robert," exclaimed Analiese. "You're okay!"

"Yes, I am," said Hogan quickly. "You guys fine? Who's that?" He was pointing to Geoff's body underneath the sheet.

"That is Geoff," answered Analiese, her tone sobering. "Someone came here, to get Andrew and Peter. Geoff…well, he saved them, but he did not make it himself."

"Carter, Newkirk," asked LeBeau, as he and Kinch came in. Analiese looked at them all; her two sons and the three Allies soldiers, noticing that they were all breathing heavily and looking worried.

"They are fine," said Analiese. She barely got the words out of her mouth before the three soldiers barreled past her to the guest bedroom.

All three of them froze when they came to the door. Newkirk was sitting up against the headboard, wide awake looking at them oddly. Carter was sitting beside him, smiling at them.

"Colonel Hogan," he cried. "You made it! Are you hungry, sir? Miss Analiese just made the best soup."

"Andrew," said Newkirk. "Wot you talkin' about? Where's the Colonel been?"

The sound of his voice drew Kinch and LeBeau out of their daze. They ran over to the bed, and might have attacked Newkirk hard with hugs if he had not been so bruised and battered. Instead, LeBeau grabbed Newkirk's face and gave him two kisses on each cheek, exclaiming excitedly in French. Kinch clapped his hand on Newkirk's shoulders, just smiling happily. Hogan took a step in, urged by Franz and Pepin who budged past him to give their greetings to Newkirk. Newkirk was thoroughly confused. He knew he had been out for three days, but everyone seemed so relieved to see him up, and relieved about other things he didn't know about. He kept smiling and nodding when they talked to him, but it was overwhelming him.

Hogan was overwhelmed as well. Only about an hour earlier, he was convinced that he would die later that night, along with his men. He was convinced that one of his men was already dead. He had thought that if by some miracle he did escape and get free, he would return to find Newkirk buried and gone, and then be leading his men to a long escape to England along with the others at camp, everyone knowing that there was a slim chance they would make it home. Yet, here he was, free and safe, in a warm house, with friends around him, all his men alive, and the man he had thought was dead, sitting up in bed, trying to keep his head straight.

Something nudged his shoulder and Hogan looked down to see Analiese there, looking up at him with knowing eyes.

"Happy to be here," she asked. "Or happy to come here and find more than you expected to find?"

"Both," said Hogan. "I didn't think…I mean…I thought we'd all be dead by now."

Analiese patted his arm soothingly. "_Ja_, but you no longer need to fret over that. You need to relax. Right now, I think you should go over to your Corporal and help your men explain some things to him. He is very confused."

"Carter didn't tell him anything," asked Hogan. "I would've expected him to have written a novel about it by now."

"It was a lot," replied Analiese with a chuckle. "Even I am having some trouble keeping up with it all. Right now, I think some good rest is in order for you all. But, being all-knowing like I am, I know that none of you will be ready to go to sleep yet. So, I will make you all a nice, late dinner, while you all talk."

Without another word, she left. Hogan looked back over to the bed, where things had settled down some. LeBeau was sitting next to carter on the bed, and Kinch on the other side of the bed. Franz and Pepin were turning around to leave the room. When they saw Hogan, they smiled.

"We will leave you all alone," said Franz. "We have to find _Vater._"

Hogan nodded and moved aside to let them pass. He walked over to the bed, and looked down at Newkirk, who looked back up at him curiously.

"You alright, Guv," asked the Englishman, cocking his head to one side. "I didn't get all o' it, but I think you 'ad a rough time."

Hogan felt a sudden overwhelming joy in his chest, and the knot in his stomach dispersed all at once. He leaned over and gently gave Newkirk a hug. The Englishman froze for a second, and then returned the hug as best as he could. When Hogan stood back up, he swallowed.

"It's good to see you, Peter," said Hogan, as if that was the only explanation that was needed.

Kinch, LeBeau, and Carter exchanged knowing looks.

"It's good to see you too, Guv," said Newkirk. He looked at them all, exasperated. "But blimey, will you blokes tell me wot the ruddy 'ell is goin' on?"

No one could hold in their laughter.


	25. Finally

**Chapter Twenty-Five: F****inally**

Hochstetter attempted to get his legs free numerous times, only resulting in intense pain that would continue to throb before it drifted away. He was antsy the whole time, his thoughts rolling into one another as he thought about help, Hogan and Bauer. The more he contemplated over the wreck, the more he thought that it was his fault that Bauer was dead. Perhaps he had taken the young man's life. Of course, he had taken other lives as well, but no one that he had this kind of acquaintance with. He never thought he would ever feel at fault about something like this. And he would certainly never admit it, to himself even, because then he would begin to think differently, and that could bring on something he did not want: a change in his feelings for others. The more detached he was, the easier his job. He was a machine, which was a part of a larger machine, and he could not let something humane, like _feelings_, get in the way. It was hatred that drove him but he did not even know it. He hated Hogan, but thought it was duty that made him go after him. He hated those who got in his way, because they were in the way of the master plan. He was a machine of the master plan, and his job consisted of one thing only: to remove parts that were fouling up the master plan.

However much these things were true, while he sat in that car, with his legs pinned and going terribly numb and cold, Hochstetter was no longer a machine. He was a human, desperate for help, after finding himself in a position where he could identify himself with others. He had heard the word desperate used before, talking about those he hunted, the Allies, and even soldiers in the Nazi army. But he had never felt the word before, not until now. Now, he was realizing things about himself that he had forgotten or never known. He had forgotten what it was like to be lonely, or to be scared. He had forgotten what it was like to wish and hope and pray with every ounce of energy that something or someone would come along, _anything, anyone._ He had forgotten what it was like to just sit and think for a really long time, and let your thoughts run, and find reason by themselves, leaving your body behind. What it was like to feel almost separated from your body, just floating out there in consciousness and then in your sub-consciousness.

But eventually he fell asleep, or maybe dozed, but there was a point in which he could remember nothing from sitting there in the car; cold and lonely, numb legs and an aching head, desperate and hopeful.

Then, he woke up, and when he regained all of his senses, he realized that he was hearing something. It was the blessed sound of engines. They were the engines of trucks. Immediately, he became excited, and anxiously listened. He assured himself that they were indeed coming his way. He tried to pull out his legs just a little bit, but was not at all surprised that they did not budge. He could only imagine the pain he was going to feel when he finally got out.

Just as the headlights came around the bend, Hochstetter stuck his arm out the window and frantically waved it. The first truck slowed to a halt and Hochstetter sighed with relief and sunk back into the seat. He heard the trucks' engines die. A private jumped off the first truck, and ran to the driver's window, waving his flashlight around in the car. He blanched when he saw who was in the driver's seat.

"Major Hochstetter?"

Hochstetter scowled when he saw that the soldier was none other than a Luftwaffe soldier. The worst kind; in his opinion. "_Ja_, it is me. Are you blind? And get that flashlight out of my face."

"_Nein Herr Major_—I mean _jawohl_—I mean, what happened _Herr Major_?"

"What happened? You are blind _dumpkoff_! Can you not see that this is a car accident? Now get those men out of the trucks and get me out of here!"

The private jumped to a salute. "_Jawohl, Herr Major!_" He ran off back to the trucks, and Hochstetter shook his head, making him groan from the annoying headache he had.

When all of the commotion started, Hochstetter let himself relax some, letting the others do the work. There was another Major from headquarters, and Hochstetter was glad that some Gestapo was involved. If it was up to the Luftwaffe soldiers alone he was sure that he would never get out.

After some pain, confusion, and another half hour, Hochstetter found himself freed from the car. The soldiers had been able to take a part and wedge the dashboard off of Hochstetter's legs at least long enough for some soldiers to pull him out. There was no getting around the pain, and when he was pulled out, he had to grit and grind his teeth to keep from actually crying out. He did not even last while they took him out. He passed out, and then came to as they were putting him into an ambulance brought from Hammelburg. He went out again when they were closing the doors to the ambulance. Then, the ambulance sped off, and Hochstetter was whisked away back to Hammelburg.

Two privates, older men of the Luftwaffe from Stalag 13, went around to the other side of the car and pulled out Captain Bauer's body. They were much older than this person they could regard as a kid. He didn't look much older than twenty-five. The recognized the Captain easily enough, though, being Hochstetter's aide. They shook their heads sadly at the sight of his corpse.

"He's very young," remarked one.

"I wonder how he became such an officer," said the other.

"He must've come from a wealthy family," replied the first.

"Hmm," said the second thoughtfully. "The wealthy are paying their dues."

"But he's still very young," remarked the first. "I guess just not too young to die."

"No one is too young to die," said the other, as they pulled Bauer's body from the wreckage and laid it on the stretcher.

And they took the stretcher with the young Captain over to one of the trucks and laid it there as gently as you would a newborn baby whilst lying him down in his crib his first night home. They placed a coat over him. Then, the soldiers, young, old, or somewhere in the middle where you watch everyone else around you on the other side of the spectrum and remember and wonder, got back into the trucks and went back to little ole Hammelburg, the center of their world, because that was where they were living and dying now.

()()()()()()

There had actually been no talking that night. Well, nothing of any considerable amount. Analiese had brought them all some more food, and mostly ate and watched each other eat, like the people around them were gods or something to awe at. But it was just them, gathered around the bed in the guestroom. The two injured ones sat upon it, smiling and looking around at those who had been able to slip by without physical injury. Whilst the Englishman recovered from a stress fracture in his back, the Colonel recovered from a stress fracture to his head, or mind rather. What gave him his fracture was the constant pressure of facts previously unknown that had struck him so hard and forcefully, he had been reeling on the brink there for awhile. But now he was closer to the center and not the edge, because now he was with his friends, which put the balancing act on a hold, because everything was in perfect balance when he was with them, and they were safe.

For right now, at least. He knew they were not completely out of trouble. They all knew it. They all knew that there were obstacles ahead; plans to come up with, difficult questions to be answered, and above all: people to get rid of. But for now, they were letting these priorities fall to the back of the line, because it was what they thought, their night off. They had been separated, put through the wringer in a number of ways, and were now ready to lay back for a bit, and just relax in the wonderful bliss of knowing that everything is okay. The "for right now, at least" part was pushed away like you pushing something away that was just plain annoying. _Stop bothering me right now, I'm enjoying my time. _

Now, most of the time was spent in companionable silence. It was just them. Analiese had closed the door some to just a crack, leaving them in private, but able to call if something was needed. Then, they had started to drift off in exhaustion, one by one. First, it was Carter, who had been at an all time high in the beginning, but then crashed only about half an hour after everyone was back. He had been lying on his stomach horizontally across the bed, his head propped up on his elbows. His eyelids had been drooping as he watched everyone around him, and then he had sunk into the oblivion of sleep, his head lying down on the quilt.

Newkirk was next to go. Although he had been anxious and eager to understand exactly what had happened to them all, he had seen that they were all tired and trying to relax, so decided not to pester them about it. He had not uttered another word in fact. The others put in a few words here and there, everyone sounding rather pathetic because no one knew what to say. It was as if they thought it was awkward that they were not talking, and tried to break the silence. But then they all decided, without words, that it was indeed better to let the silence be. After watching Carter give up to staying awake, Newkirk sort of smiled, almost nostalgically. And then, he let himself drift off to sleep.

LeBeau watched that nostalgic smile creep off Newkirk's lips and smiled himself. He also felt nostalgic then, but pushed it aside, like he had always done, because there was no going back. There was only waiting until you were given peace. LeBeau, had—for once—enjoyed being served instead of serving. He could not argue against Analiese's food in any way, and even though he always enjoyed serving others, he enjoyed respite like this at times. He was sure the others were enjoying the respite as well. Even though LeBeau himself had not been injured, the running around, thinking of the others, and worrying constantly had set him on edge. Now, he knew he could let his guard down, just for the night. And he would not let it go to waste. So, he laid his head down on the bed, and closed his eyes, not bothering to fight sleep this time. He was finished with fighting for today.

Kinch looked at Colonel Hogan when LeBeau finally went to sleep. It had never been uncommon for the Colonel and Kinch to be the last ones to bed. Some things would never change. Kinch smiled as he looked over LeBeau, Carter, and Newkirk.

"Glad to be back, Colonel," he asked.

"You bet," replied Hogan with conviction. But Kinch could tell he was worried.

"You know it'll be fine," said Kinch.

"Really," asked Hogan. Kinch saw that there was no mask right now on the Colonel's face. He was just tired and worried. He almost sounded like a little kid asking his mom if there would really be presents under the tree the next morning.

"It always is," said Kinch, reassuringly. "We'll get back to camp, heal up, and be back in business in no time."

Hogan looked at him for a moment, trying to make himself believe that statement. There was nagging doubt in him, but there always was when he was worried. He finally sighed, and laid his head back in the chairs he was in. He put his feet up on the bed, and lounged further back. Putting his hands behind his head, he looked up at the ceiling.

"I'll take your word for it, Kinch," he said.

Then, he closed his eyes.

Kinch smiled, and then took everyone else's advice, and closed his eyes too.

Finally, rest was more than welcomed, and they could get it freely.


	26. Departure

**Chapter Twenty-Six: De****parture**

The next day started out slowly and mournfully. Mostly everyone slept in, and then had a hardy breakfast, compliments of Analiese. Afterwards, a small funeral was done in honor of Geoff. Franz and Pepin set about digging a grave underneath an oak tree behind the barn. For the funeral, everyone except Newkirk came out. Johann and Karl said a few words, and then the grave was filled and they returned inside. The morning mocked them. The storm which had passed through the day before left a beautiful spring day in its wake. Water dripped from the trees, and the wet grass glittered in the rising sun. The golden fields became oceans as the breeze picked up.

The windows in the house were opened, as if the wind would cleanse the house of the sorrow and pain. They all breathed in the fresh air, feeling more content after the stressful days which were now behind them.

But it was back to business after the funeral, though. The first order of business was to have everyone checked up on. Karl checked up on everyone, making sure no one had some unexpected injuries from the day before. Fortunately, there were no surprises. Carter's knee was on the mend still, but getting better steadily. Karl was sure that after it was completely healed, it wouldn't bother Carter much at all. Then, he looked over Newkirk. The reports were the same as the previous day. Swelling was going down around his broken or strained bones, though his back was healing the slowest. Karl re-wrapped the wounds.

After Karl was satisfied that everyone was okay or on the mend, the next order of business was taken care of. Hogan and Kinch went down to the cellar to call the camp. Kinch flipped on the radio.

"Jaegar to Goldilocks, Jaeger to Goldilocks."

There was static at first, and then Baker's voice came through the speaker.

"Goldilocks to Jaegar. Go on Goldilocks."

Kinch handed the microphone to Hogan.

"How's it going over there, Goldilocks?"

There was a pause, then, "Papa Bear? That you?"

"Yep, it's me, Goldilocks."

"Well, sir, it sure is glad to hear your voice again. That we had ourselves done in there for a bit."

"Me too," said Hogan. "We're just calling to give you fellas an update. Everyone's fine here. The two wounded cubs are doing better. We'll be home tomorrow."

"That is good news, sir," replied Baker. "And we have some good news of our own for you: Big Bad Wolf got in a car wreck, which gets him off our tail."

"A car wreck," said Hogan, disbelieving. "Is he dead?" He had mixed emotions over how he would feel to find that his _favorite_ Gestapo Major had finally bought the farm.

"No, sir," said Baker with slight disappointment in his voice. "He's not dead, but was badly injured. He was actually on his way to look for all you guys, and on the right track from what we heard."

"And then he got in a wreck," asked Hogan.

"Right," answered Baker. "I know what you're thinking, but no one helped him get into a car wreck. It was a real one. And bad. His aide got killed."

Hogan frowned, remembering the young face that was always around Hochstetter.

"Well, that was a stroke of fate, I guess," he said.

"Suppose so, sir," said Baker.

"Okay," said Hogan. "Well, I guess we won't have to worry about him on our way home. Thanks."

"Don't thank me, sir," said Baker. "Thank that awful weather and poor driving."

"Yeah," said Hogan with a small smile. "Okay, Goldilocks, Jaegar signing off."

"Don't you mean Papa Bear signing off," asked Baker.

"Right," said Hogan. "Papa Bear signing off."

Hogan handed the microphone back to Kinch, who set it back on the radio. He stood up. "So how are we getting back to camp?"

"I have an idea," said Hogan. "But let's go upstairs and discuss with everyone else."

They went back upstairs, and got everyone concerned into the den, except Newkirk and Carter. Carter could come but had elected to keep Newkirk company.

"I think that I should take Fleischer and his men back to England before you go back," said Johann, once everyone was settled in. He had not said much the entire day. He continued, "Not all the way to England, but at least a day away. That way we will be out of the area whenever you go back to Stalag 13. That is, I am assuming you will have to turn yourselves in?"

"Yes," said Hogan. "That's a part of the plan. And what you're saying makes sense. The problem with us getting back to camp, though, is that with two injured men, we need an explanation as to why they are injured. Especially Newkirk."

"Well, what was your original pan," asked Karl.

"I was thinking that you could call in that you had found us," said Hogan.

"_Ja,_" said Karl. "That would be the logical thing to do. However, Andrew and Peter's injuries do present a problem."

"We just need to come up with a legitimate reason as to why they are injured," stated LeBeau.

"Right," said Hogan.

"Well," said Pepin. "We could just say Andrew was shot running from a patrol or something. That would make sense."

"It would," said Franz. "But if the Nazis got into an investigation, which we know they will, they will look for the unit who was supposedly on patrol. And when they realize there was no patrol that shot at someone, they will know that that story is not true."

"Oh," said Pepin, defeated.

"Besides," said Hogan. "Carter is easier to explain than Newkirk. There are thousands of ways to get shot from accidentally to on purpose. But there aren't many ways to get busted up like Newkirk is."

"Well wait a minute," said Analiese. "That could be the answer. What if you just say that he was on the train when it blew up?" Everyone looked at her incredulously. "Well, it would make sense for a POW to hide out on a train, because it would take him far away from the camp. So, it would make sense that you were all hiding out on the train when it exploded."

"Except one thing, Analiese," said Karl. "They are not injured as well."

"Unless," began Kinch, and everyone looked to him. "The train stopped, and we got out, right before it blew, but Newkirk didn't in time. That makes sense."

"Oh boy," groaned Hogan. "Even if Hochstetter is injured, he'll have a field day with this. Just being near the train would be enough for him to say that we were involved in its being destroyed."

Kinch chuckled, receiving an annoyed look from his commanding officer. "Sorry. But, sir, I'm pretty sure that this is going to all work out."

"So," said Karl. "We call in that we have found you, and the reason you were still around was because you had two injured men. You were all hiding in the train, hoping for it to take you out of the area."

"Right," said Hogan.

"And when will make this call," asked Franz.

"Tomorrow morning," answered Hogan. "That way, we can send Johann onto England with Fleischer and the other two. Malte, you will take one other person, and help Johann escort the prisoners to the rendezvous point with the sub. So, by the time we call and the goons come and swarm this place, you all will have a good head start."

Everyone nodded as the plan was concluded on that note.

So, that evening, Johann, Malte and Ambros stood outside, with Fleischer and two of his men tied up in a line. They stood outside the kitchen, looking up at those who were staying. Good-byes had already been said. Johann was glad to be leaving Germany for now. Enough had taken place there for him to be ready to get out for awhile. He knew he would return, after the war ended. This was, after all, his home. However, he felt now that his part was over, and he would take a break from it all, for now, and then come home to rebuild his country.

They all waved one last time, and then Johann, Ambros, and Malte turned away pulling their prisoners along, and began their trek to the coast. The other Underground members who had been around the Bachmeier house the past few days also left. They had been away from their other lives long enough, and now it was time to return, now that everything was getting to be okay again.

After everyone was back inside, and the house locked up, Newkirk finally got everyone around to tell him what exactly had gone on while he was out. Everyone told a good bit of it, because several pieces needed to put together for complete comprehension. When the story was finally told, there was long moment of silence, as they all thought about how close they had come to getting killed.

The following morning, everyone woke up earlier than they did the previous day. Analiese once again made a very good breakfast, while Karl checked up on Newkirk and Carter again. The reports were the same, as they both continued to heal.

The only thing that seemed different with Newkirk from the day before was his attitude. He was frustrated, and on edge. He became more restless with every passing hour. He denied his breakfast, claiming he was not hungry. This thoroughly annoyed Analiese. Hogan and the others became concerned. After they pushed him to eat something, he nibbled on some toast and drank some cocoa. He wouldn't speak, except when someone asked him a question, and his tone was sharp. After a particular smart retort to Carter, Hogan was fed up with the Corporal's attitude and sat down to talk with him.

"Okay, Newkirk," he said, pulling up a chair beside the bed. "What's up?"

"What do you mean wot's up," asked Newkirk.

"You know what I mean," replied Hogan.

"Nothin's up," said Newkirk quickly. He frowned and looked away, towards the window.

"Hey," said Hogan. "I know something is up."

"Well, I tell you one thing," said Newkirk. "I'm certainly not up." He was still looking away from Hogan.

"That's true," said Hogan. "Is that why you're mad?"

Newkirk looked back at him quickly, his eyes narrowed. "I'm not mad."

"Okay," said Hogan. "Frustrated"

"Maybe," said Newkirk. "I mean, is your back broken?"

"Ah," said Hogan knowingly.

"Not so much that," said Newkirk. "But I can't do anythin'. Wot if somethin' were to 'appen? I can't defend meself, an' certainly can't 'elp any o' you guys."

Hogan grinned. The response was so typically Newkirk. "Look here, Newkirk. I don't think anything is going to happen between now and getting back to camp. We'll call them, and Schultz will probably be the one who ends up bringing us back. Fleischer is gone, Hochstetter's in the hospital, and everyone else is going to treat us like the escaped prisoners we are. So you see? Nothing to worry about."

Newkirk eyed him carefully. "You think so?"

Hogan nodded. "Yeah. What made you think about all of this anyway?"

"Well," said Newkirk. "It was last night, when you were all tellin' me about wot 'appened 'round 'ere while I was out. I mean, everyone could've gotten killed, an' I still would've been lyin' in this bed without a clue."

Hogan sighed. "May I remind you that we thought you were going to die? Or how about the fact that I thought you were dead? Twice?" Newkirk sort of flinched at that, and Hogan patted his knee. "Newkirk, you're a regular ole nanny."

"Excuse me," said Newkirk.

"You worry about everyone," exclaimed Hogan, chuckling. "Why can't you just lay back and worry about yourself for a change."

"Well I do that too," said Newkirk. "I distinctly remember everyone tellin' me to stop complainin'. An' not just once, but several times over."

"So you're just a worry wart," said Hogan. "Nothing's ever perfect for you."

"In a war, mate," said Newkirk. "Nothin' is ever perfect for anyone."

Hogan nodded. "I guess that's true. So did you worry a lot before the war?"

"Yeah, I did," admitted Newkirk quickly enough. "But those days weren't exactly a cake walk either. I guess you could say, Guv, that I was brought up to worry. To worry about myself, or my family, or both. I never 'ad it easy, an' I don't think I ever will."

"You'll get it easy one day," said Hogan. "No one goes through all of this trouble, to not get it easy. I would just be worried that you'd screw it up."

"'Ey," exclaimed Newkirk. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well," said Hogan. "You and Carter do have a tendency to screw up everything good."

Carter came into the room just then. "What about me?"

"I'm not takin' you back to London with me," said Newkirk. "Ever."

"Well, gee," said Carter. "A man thinks he's wanted and then all of the sudden they turn their backs on him."

Newkirk chuckled. "I was jokin', but the first sign of trouble, and you're out."

LeBeau and Kinch came in.

"You and Carter are the signs or trouble," said LeBeau.

"Yeah," agreed Kinch. "I see you two walking together so I start walking the other way."

"Wasn't it you Kinch, who said they were Laurel and Hardy," asked Hogan.

"I'm proud to say that it was me who made that perfect observation," said Kinch.

"See," said LeBeau. "You could both go back to London and perform a Laurel and Hardy act. I can see it now: Peter and Andrew." He moved his hands through the air, picturing a flashing sign over the theater. "Maybe Peter and Andy. That sounds better."

The others laughed as Newkirk threw a pillow into LeBeau's face. "Thanks a lot, Louie."

"Anytime, Pierre," replied LeBeau.

The laughter died off and Hogan stood up. "I'd better go get Karl to make that call. It's time we went home."

Everyone nodded, and Hogan left the room.

"Home," murmured Kinch. "It seems a long way off. And not in miles. It's like I haven't been there in twenty years."

"Yeah," said Carter. "And it's only been one-and-a-half."

"Almost four," murmured Newkirk.

"I cannot really say I 'ave not been back," said LeBeau. "I 'ave not seen my family, but I 'ave been back to Paris on a few occasions."

"Lucky dog," said Newkirk. "Wot I wouldn't give to step foot back on English soil right now." He closed his eyes, imagining it.

"But really," said Kinch. "They say home is where the heart is. And I've always thought that's where my family is. And I've got family here. So, I guess, in a way, I do have a home here."

Newkirk opened his eyes and smiled. "True."

"And after the war," said Carter. "I'm going to come back one day."

"Why, exactly, would you do that," asked Newkirk. "If we're all gone?"

"Well," said Carter. "Schultz will still be here, and so will Miss Analiese, and Mr. Karl, and Franz, and Pepin, and Johann will come back, and Schnitzer will be here too, and maybe I'll even visit Klink."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "I'm just glad you didn't say somethin' about Burkhalter or 'Ochstetter."

The others chuckled.

"I think I will go visit 'Ochstetter," said LeBeau. Everyone looked at him stunned. "In prison," he quickly added.

They all laughed.

Then, Hogan came back in. "Okay you laughing hyenas, the cavalry is on their way. We need to get changed into some Allied uniforms, so they don't wonder about the civilian clothes."

"There are some spares downstairs in the cellar," said Karl, who had followed Hogan in. "I'll bring them up here."

Soon after, they were in their proper Allied uniforms, though not exactly what they would normally be wearing. Not long after, Schultz arrived with several guards from Stalag 13.

Analiese opened up the door for them to come in, and led them to the guest bedroom. Franz and Pepin 'stood guard' with rifles inside. Newkirk was still on the bed, although fully dressed. The others were seated in chairs lined up against the wall.

Schultz acted very angry with them, fussing at them for trying to escape. When he saw that Newkirk and Carter were injured, he fussed even more, reprimanding them for the fact that they might have all been killed. They all took it in silence, knowing that Schultz was fussing over them simply because he cared about their well-being. Karl and his family acted as if they were glad to be rid of the prisoners. Indeed, they were glad to see them finally returning to the Stalag, but not in the way they were presenting to the guards. A stretcher had been brought on Karl's request. Newkirk was put on it, and loaded onto the truck that way. Everyone else climbed in, and the guards after them. Schultz got up front with Langenscheidt who drove them back to camp.

As they drove away from the Bachmeier farm, Hogan kept his eyes on the house, until they turned onto the road, and he could no longer see it. He longed for a home like that.


	27. Restless Recovery

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: A R****estless**** R****ecovery**

When they arrived back at camp, it was around ten in the morning. Most of the camp was out, because the prisoners knew that their missing five were on their way home. When the truck drove up, the prisoners gathered around.

Klink came out, ordering the prisoners away from the truck. General Burkhalter was with him. The guards scattered the prisoners, so they watched from a distance as Hogan, Kinch, LeBeau, and Carter hopped out the back of the truck with their guards around them.

"Where is the _Engländer_," asked Klink.

Hogan hooked his thumb back to the truck. "He can't move much. He has a broken back."

Klink looked at Langenscheidt and Schultz. "Drive the truck to the infirmary and bring the Engländer in there. Have the medic look him over."

"_Jawohl_," said Schultz. They drove off to the infirmary.

Klink looked back at Hogan and his men. He appeared very annoyed. "Guards, bring Sergeants Kinchloe and Carter, and Corporal LeBeau to the cooler. Hogan, you will come with me and General Burkhalter to my office."

Hogan nodded. This was the expected procedure. He nodded to the others as they were led off to the cooler. Then, he followed Klink and Burkhalter into the office. He gave a sly smile to Hilda, who was waiting in the office with her notepad. Klink shut the door as Hogan sat down in the chair in front of Klink's desk. Burkhalter sat in Klink's chair and Klink stood behind Burkhalter, glaring down at Hogan.

"You are very lucky that some decent people found you and your men, Hogan," he said. "And doctors at that."

"I guess we are," said Hogan absently.

"So," said Burkhalter. "There are still a lot of unanswered questions. Give us the entire story Hogan. Where have you been?"

Hogan sighed and dove right into the selected tale. He told them how they escaped when the fire started, seeing it as the perfect diversion. He swore it was not them who started the fire, that it was just a normal accident. Fortunately, they believed him. Then, he told them how they made their way to the train station, and climbed up on one of the cargo cars, thinking it would be the best place to hide and hitch a ride without anyone knowing. They heard the train was on its way to France, and planned to jump off once they crossed the border. Well, Klink and Burkhalter assured him that they had heard wrong. That train was on its way to supply troops in Russia. So Hogan acted all relieved that they never made it that far. After that, he told them that when the train stopped, they started to get out, because they thought it was being searched. Then, it started to blow up, and Newkirk never got away in time, and Carter got hit by some shrapnel. He then explained how they hid in the woods, always thinking that patrols were out and how scared they were because of Newkirk's condition. He never said anything about how bad Newkirk had really been off. He told them how positively lost they had been in the woods, and how slow they had been traveling. Finally, they decided that they needed to turn themselves into someone, and that's when they found the Bachmeiers' farm. He explained how the family was very cautious around them, and kept them under guard in the house, but since Karl was a doctor he felt that it was also his duty to take care of Newkirk and Carter any way he could. But they had only been there for a day, so he didn't do much. Hogan said that they called the Stalag the following morning.

Burkhalter seemed satisfied with the story, because it made sense, and nothing was left unexplained except for the train being sabotaged. But that was not in Burkhalter's job description, so he did not worry about it. He checked over Hilda's notes, making sure that she had left out nothing.

"_Gut_," he said, pocketing the notepad. "I will make out a report of this. Klink, you will take care of Colonel Hogan's punishment, now that he is back in your camp."

"Of course, Herr General," said Klink. "And General, what of Major Hochstetter?"

"What of him, Klink," asked Burkhalter.

"Well," said Klink, rather nervously. "Surely, as soon as he is well enough, he will come here to question Colonel Hogan and his men about the train's destruction. What am I to do about that?"

"Their story is very credible," said Burkhalter. "As far as I am concerned, Major Hochstetter will have to find other people to question about that. When he comes, tell him that General Burkhalter will have his head if he touches these prisoners. They are Luftwaffe property, and have no charges held over them except for their escape attempt. That is all."

Without another word, he left. Hogan watched him go with a pleased smile. He was glad that Burkhalter and Hochstetter never got along. It always seemed to help in the end. Hogan looked back at Klink.

"Well, Kommandant," he said, opening the cigar box. "I'm back. Have you kept my room all tidy for me?"

Klink slammed the cigar box shut, narrowly missing Hogan's fingers. He held out his hand for the stolen cigar. Hogan handed it to him reluctantly, albeit he was wearing a twisted smile.

"You nearly cost me my job," said Klink. "I think sixty days in the cooler will do it for you and your men."

"Now, Kommandant," said Hogan. "I think that's a bit much. I mean, we've had our fair share of hurt as it is. I mean, Carter's injured, and who knows when Newkirk will be back on his feet. Besides, I do believe you need some prisoners to rebuild the mess hall and repair the motor pool."

"I have as many prisoners as I could possibly want in this camp to do that for me," said Klink.

"But how well are they going to work knowing you are keeping me and my men in the cooler for _sixty_ days," asked Hogan. "Two months. That's a long time, Kommandant."

"Not long enough to keep you out of my hair," said Klink.

"What hair," asked Hogan. Klink cringed. "Oh, sorry, sir…bad taste."

"Hogaaaan," warned Klink.

Hogan smiled. That one never got old.

"Kommandant," said Hogan. "I can promise you that my men in this camp will not work if they know that we are in that cooler for an entire two months."

Klink narrowed his eyes at Hogan, knowing the American was right. His men were deathly loyal to him, and if he gave the word, you could bet it would happen.

"Forty-five," said Klink.

"Twenty-five," said Hogan.

"Forty."

"Thirty."

"Thirty-five."

"Thirty," Hogan said right back.

Klink glared. "Thirty."

Hogan smiled. They would be out in no time on good behavior or something else he got Klink to think on. He stood up. "Is that all, sir? I'll walk myself to the cooler."

"Yes, that is all," said Klink. "Now get out." He gave a sharp and angry salute.

Hogan returned it sloppily, and then left the room, slamming the door behind him boldly. Klink shook his head as he sat down. That man would drive him crazy one day. He hoped the war would end soon so that he could live without that man always talking away.

_Oh, who are you kidding? You are glad he is here. You are glad he is back and well. Because you know that without him, you would be gone. You are even glad his men came back, those who more than once you tried to have the camp rid of. _

But the question to him was, why? Why did he care about those men so much? Yes, he tried to be a fair man to every prisoner in the camp, but why did he worry about them all? He knew that few kommandants actually did. He knew that there were very few officers in the Nazi regime that would actually act this way to any of their enemy openly. It was at times like this Klink wanted to call Hogan back in his office and tell him everything. But he knew he could not. He felt that he had to remain someone else to Hogan always, because then the relationship as Kommandant and prisoner would never be there, not even to be spoken of.

Klink got up and poured himself a glass of schnapps. He was drinking towards this victory and to maybe forget some things as well.

()()()()()()

Schultz and Langenscheidt pulled out the stretcher bearing Newkirk and brought him into the infirmary. Wilson, naturally, had been forewarned that some injuries would be coming in. He had been relieved to hear that a proper doctor had seen to them all before they came back to the Stalag. However, he knew little of what the injuries were, or who was injured. So, when Schultz and Langenscheidt came in bearing a very battered Newkirk, Wilson was slightly surprised at the severity of the wounds.

"What happened," were the first words out of his mouth.

Newkirk gave him a funny grin. "The train we tried to get out on blew up."

Wilson rolled his eyes. He pointed to one of the beds. "Over here." He helped Schultz and Langenscheidt set Newkirk down onto the bed.

"Now you be _ein_ _gut_ _Engländer,_" said Schultz, waving his finger at Newkirk.

"Schultzie," said Newkirk. "Does it look like I can get into anymore trouble?"

"_Nein_," answered Schultz. "I would like to think so, but with you boys, one can never be sure."

"Don't worry, Schultz," said Wilson. "I'll watch over him."

"_Danke_," said Schultz. "I always knew I could rely on doctors."

He and Langenscheidt left.

"Right," said Wilson slyly as he watched them leave. He looked back at Newkirk, putting his hands on his hips. "So what did happen?"

"It's too long a story for now," said Newkirk. "But I'm supposed to give you this." He pulled a folded up piece of paper from his battledress jacket. "It's from Karl Bachmeier, our doctor friend. We were at 'is 'ouse."

Wilson unfolded the paper, and after scanning over it, smiled.

"It's everyone's conditions," he said. "Now, this is the way to do it: from doctor to doctor." He looked back down at it. "Good Lord, Newkirk, how did you get so beat up?"

"Well," began Newkirk. "I kinda forgot that the bridge was supposed to blow up. I was runnin' from these other blokes that were shootin' at me, an' the bridge blew."

"You got shot as well though," said Wilson, his eyes still glued to the paper. "And a broken back. But it says here that you're getting better. You just need rest and time. At least in a prison camp you can get both."

"Not this prison camp," reminded Newkirk.

"Yes, even in this prison camp," said Wilson. "I have a doctor's note here. Besides, I outrank everyone here when it comes to medical matters. Colonel Hogan has even said it himself."

Newkirk rolled his eyes. "Oh brother; I'll be 'ere till the next war."

"If that's what it takes, then yes," said Wilson without a trace of humor. Newkirk frowned, but Wilson finally smiled. "Look, a broken back is definitely not something to fool around with. It needs to be completely healed before you do anything else. You could seriously re-injure yourself if you don't."

"Okay, okay," said Newkirk. "I get it. Just 'ow long is that supposed to take?"

"Well," said Wilson. "It says here that you've got a hairline or stress fracture here. I'm not sure exactly how long that will take, but I'm gonna say right now that you're not leaving this camp for at least another month."

"A month," exclaimed Newkirk. "You're ruddy jokin'!"

"I said at least a month," said Wilson. "It could be longer."

Newkirk sagged against the pillows and groaned. "Damn, that's a long time."

"You've been stuck in prison longer than that before," said Wilson. "So don't complain too much."

"Yeah, yeah," said Newkirk. "It's just that I liked bein' able to go out almost whenever I needed some fresh air."

"I can't do anything about it Newkirk except help you get better," said Wilson. "I'm sorry."

"You don't 'ave to apologize, mate," said Newkirk. "I'm just blowin' off steam."

"I know," said Wilson. "Here, let me help you get out of your jacket and boots and you can get more comfortable."

Newkirk shot him a disgusted look, and Wilson knew he disliked the idea of having to be helped with everything. Yes, this was going to be a long month for them all.

Later in the day, the entire camp knew what had happened. They knew both stories too: the real one, and the one that had been told to the Nazis. So, now that everyone was properly educated, Wilson thought it would be a good idea to go visit Klink.

"Sir," he said, standing before the Kommandant. "I would like to request permission to go visit the returning men in the cooler to give them a check-up."

Klink eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of check-up?"

"A brief one, sir," answered Wilson. "I just want to make sure that they don't have any wounds that may get infected or such. Being out like that can get a man in trouble if he's not worrying about his well-being as much as he should."

"Yes, yes," said Klink impatiently. "Fine, you may go. Schultz will be with you at all times."

"Thank you, sir," said Wilson.

Schultz took him to the cooler, where he was able to check up on everyone. He looked over Carter, but like he had noticed with Newkirk, Doctor Bachmeier had taken care of mostly everything. Wilson would just make sure that he kept everyone's cuts clean. Infection was a fatal attack. They also talked as much as they could about the events of the past few days. Schultz kept his distance, not wanting to hear anything that might come back to haunt him later on.

As Wilson expected, each of them inquired heavily about Newkirk's condition. He gave them each generally the same answer. "He's fine, just ticked off that he'll be out of it for so long. And when you guys get out, I'll need you everyday to be there for him. He and I will get tired of each other quick." Well, everyone was just as eager to get out of the cooler as Newkirk was to get out of bed. But, they all knew, that with recent events, things would not be handled as lightly as they were used to. It was going to be a slow recovery.


	28. A Persevering Adversary

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: A P****ersevering**** A****dversary**

After some more bargaining, Hogan had he and his men out of the cooler in fifteen days. He could see that Klink was still very frustrated with him, but the work around the camp that needed to be done, and now the call for workers to rebuild the bridge, led Klink to release the four prisoners from the cooler. But Hogan's first order of business after getting out was to go straight to the infirmary.

Wilson had been giving daily reports on Newkirk. The Englishman was looking better. Most of the bruising that he had gotten was subsiding to duller colors. He had a few nasty gashes that would leave some scarring, but nothing to hamper him in the future. He could even sit up by himself, as his back seemed to be healing quicker than Wilson originally thought. And as for his broken wrist and ribs, they were healing quickly as well. Wilson would keep them wrapped, until he was sure that they were completely healed.

Hogan was joined by Carter, Kinch, and LeBeau, on his trip to the infirmary.

Newkirk was playing checkers with Wilson, for the umpteenth time. When he heard the door open, he looked up, and grinned from ear to ear.

"Well," he said. "About time you lads showed up. I was beginnin' to worry that Klink would never let you out."

"If things weren't so bad around here, he wouldn't have," said Hogan. They gathered around Newkirk's bed.

"So," asked Carter. "What have you been up to?"

"Probably not anymore than you've been up to," said Newkirk. "This mother hen barely lets me even look out the window."

Wilson shot him an annoyed look, and looked at Hogan. "He's taken to calling me Mum."

Newkirk flicked a checker at Wilson and his pompous British accent. "Wot else 'ave I got to call you?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Wilson sarcastically. "Maybe Doctor, Sergeant, Wilson, even by my first name Joseph. But not Mum."

"Well, since you enjoy that name so much, I'll stick with it…Mum," said Newkirk, with a mischievous grin.

Wilson glared. "That's the last time I'm ever playing checkers with you, pal."

The other watched the exchange with amusement.

"It seems you two have certainly become the only old couple we have in this camp," pointed out Kinch.

"Okay, okay," said Hogan. "Let's not anger them any further. Now really, Newkirk, how are you?"

"Fine I suppose," said Newkirk with a shrug. "A bit sore 'ere an' there, but I can move better. If anything, I'll die of boredom. Baker, Scotty, Forrest and Olsen have come in a few times, but Klink has kept them busy with keepin' the rations goin' properly. An' some o' the other chaps 'ave dropped in for company, but with all the work details goin' on, it's 'ard for 'em to drop in all the time."

"Who are these other chaps," asked Carter.

"The other Brits in this camp, mate," said Newkirk. "I know it'll sound funny, but I am British, and I did know other people before you lot showed up. Me an' Louie did 'ave a life at one point."

"Yeah, we remember," said Kinch. "How is everyone by the way?"

"Just fine and dandy," said Newkirk. There was a mix of sarcasm and truth in his tone. The others couldn't figure out where he was going. He looked at Hogan. "They're 'ungry, Guv."

Hogan sighed. Newkirk and LeBeau had originally been a part of his team as the go betweens for the English and French prisoners in the camp. It seemed that the role had not been forgotten by the other prisoners.

"I know," said Hogan. "We all are. I talked to Klink. He said that the bridge being blown up has been keeping supplies getting to Hammelburg from Berlin. All of these new supplies are going to have to come in by truck."

"Damn," said Wilson. "Who would've thought?"

"Yeah," said Kinch. "And the townspeople can't hold us up forever. Did Klink say how long?"

"Another week," said Hogan. "It took Burkhalter awhile to get headquarters to send the supplies. They thought we would be able to hold out for longer. And the Red Cross has to go through Berlin and Headquarters to make this 'emergency call'. The rations are just going to have to be smaller for awhile more."

"But Guv," said Newkirk. "The guards are gettin' more. Blackwell and Perkins said they seen it. And Curtis 'ears 'em talk about it."

LeBeau glared. "That's not fair. We are all getting only one meal a day, and a small one at that, and they are laughing about their own food."

"But that's not all," said Newkirk. "The lads looked into it more, an they found out that it's not all the guards. It's only a few."

"When did they tell you all of this," asked Wilson. "I haven't heard a word about this. And I don't think any of the other prisoners have mentioned it either.

"Because I told them to keep their mouths shut and keep lookin' into it," said Newkirk. "They told me when you weren't around one day, so I told 'em not to tell anyone else they 'aven't already told. That way, the guards wouldn't get suspicious, and then the Colonel could do somethin' about it."

"Good work, Newkirk," said Hogan. "Who's been watching the guards?"

"Just Perkins, Blackwell, Curtis, and Arcenau," answered Newkirk.

"Arcenau," asked LeBeau.

"Yea," said Newkirk. "'E's friendly towards one o' the guards Curtis 'eard talkin'. So Perkins asked 'im some about it."

"Arcenau was always good with guards," said LeBeau. "They liked that 'e came from Strasbourg."

"Okay," said Hogan. "Carter, go get Perkins, Curtis, Blackwell, and Arcenau here. But don't tell them that I'm here. Just tell them that Newkirk wants to speak with them."

"Right sir," said Carter. He left the infirmary quickly. Newkirk noticed that Carter seemed completely healed.

"What's on your mind, Colonel," asked Kinch.

"Well, if it's not all the guards, that means they're hiding something," said Hogan. "They've either found a food source that no one knows about, or someone is offering it to them for a price."

"Like bribery or blackmail," asked Kinch.

"Right," said Hogan.

"But who would be doing that," asked LeBeau. "What do the guards have or know?"

"That's what I hope we find out," said Hogan. "There can only be one operation in this camp, and that's ours. Anything else going on might interfere or cause problems."

"Are you sayin' that maybe someone is tryin' to figure us out," asked Newkirk.

"Maybe," said Hogan. "People will do anything for food, and if someone has been watching us or poking around while we were out of the game, that could cause problems."

"There was still Baker and the others watching over everything," pointed out Kinch. "And I asked them. They said they didn't see anything unusual."

"Yes," said Hogan. "But no one of them are Perkins, Curtis, Blackwell, or Arcenau."

"Are you implyin' somethin', Guv," asked Newkirk.

"Oh, come on, Pierre," said LeBeau. "Everyone knows that you and those four 'ave worked in a slightly different environment before the war."

"We just 'ad some different obligations to tend to," said Newkirk.

"Right," said Kinch.

"Anyway," said Hogan, cutting them all off. "The fact is, is that Baker and the others wouldn't think to be suspicious towards anyone right now. But, it's in Newkirk and his pals' natures to be suspicious towards everyone when rations are short."

"Ey," exclaimed Newkirk in protest. "That's not a fair thing to say."

"It's not fair because it's the truth, and life isn't fair," said Kinch. He chuckled at Newkirk's angry face.

"You chaps just like pokin' fun at a man when 'e's all done in," pouted Newkirk.

Carter came back in, with an Englishman and Frenchman in tow. The Frenchman was smoking a cigarette.

"Hey, no smoking," said Wilson. He indicated to the cigarette and then shook his head.

"Another reason why I'm going crazy," muttered Newkirk.

The Frenchman rolled his eyes, and put the cigarette out and then flicked it out the window.

Kinch gave him a reproving look. "_Cela est probablement comment le feu a été commencé_," he said.

The Frenchman, Private Arcenau, shrugged. "_Je sais que je ne l'ai pas commencé_."

Kinch glared back, and the others looked at LeBeau.

"Kinch told him that the fire was probably started that way and Arcenau said that 'e knows that 'e did not start it," said LeBeau.

Arcenau smiled sheepishly at Hogan.

"Never mind," said Hogan. "Where's Perkins and Curtis?"

"They're out on a work detail," said Carter. "Apparently fixing the bridge."

"It's lovely to 'ave it blown up," said Corporal Blackwell, the Englishman. "But rebuildin' it is never fun."

"We'll take our time," assured Hogan. "Anyway, I got you guys in here, because I hear that you've come up on some guards who are getting more food than everyone else."

Arcenau and Blackwell looked at Newkirk, who nodded. They both looked back at Hogan and nodded.

"But it isn't all o' them," said Blackwell. "There's only four o' them: Richter, Schröder, Hahn, and Lehmann."

"Hmm," said Hogan. He got up and started pacing.

"They are all barracks guards," said Arcenau. Everyone turned and looked at him in surprise.

"You speak English," asked Carter.

"Of course I do," said Arcenau. There was still a French accent, but nothing strong. "I was properly educated at a private school outside of Sträsbourg. My family was not full of peasants."

"So wot are you," asked Newkirk.

"Someone who decided that the peasant life was better," said Arcenau.

"That's the way, mate," said Blackwell approvingly.

"But it makes sense," said Hogan.

The others gave him odd looks.

"That he decided that the peasant life was better," asked Carter.

"No," said Hogan. "That the guards all work in the barracks. They know the prisoners fairly well, and are always around them. If you wanted someone to spy on prisoners, you would make sure it was someone who was around them often enough. You wouldn't get a guard who was in the towers all night to spy on us."

"So you think someone is bribing them," asked LeBeau.

"Right," said Hogan.

"Any idea who," asked Newkirk.

"Off the top of my head," said Hogan. "I'd have to say Hochstetter."

()()()()()()

The doctor looked down at his patient with hidden contempt. Yes, he was a loyal man to the Führer, and to the Reich, but in every crowd there was still the men who just had everyone in fits. Doctor Heiman's patient, Major Hochstetter, was one of those people. If Hochstetter was in any other branch, Dr. Heiman might have said a few things to him. But telling off a Gestapo officer was something one did when they signed their suicide letter.

So, he looked down at Hochstetter, and nodded.

"You are definitely improving, _Herr Major,_" he said.

"I would expect nothing less," said Hochstetter. Whereas most people would have smiled or at least shown some expressional sign of being pleased, Hochstetter practically growled at the man who was helping him. Heiman was going through ways in his head that he could somehow pass Hochstetter onto another doctor.

"However," said Dr. Heiman. "Having two broken legs is nothing you can really get over quickly. There will be rehabilitation involved. Your legs were pinned for quite some time, which was cutting off blood circulation and feeling. There has been some slight nerve damage, but nothing that will really make it harder for you in the future. It will just take some time before you can walk on your own two feet without any assistance." He put the charts down on the table. "You really should be more careful with your driving Major. Not only did you seriously injure yourself, you killed another man."

Hochstetter was silent for a moment, and Heiman thought he might have struck a chord there. But Hochstetter looked up at him with a look of hatred.

"Do you know why I was out there, Doctor," he asked. Heiman shook his head. "I was out there looking for a man; the most dangerous man in Germany. He was evading me, once again. But this time I was on to him. He was in trouble. I know it. Something was wrong, and I was going to catch him this time. That is why I was out there. And as for my driving…it was an accident. The road was wet and we skidded."

Dr. Heiman just nodded, outwardly agreeing with Hochstetter, and inwardly concluding his theory that this man was messed up because he was bent on one thing: revenge. He had not stopped talking of this Colonel Hogan from Stalag 13 since he had woken up. He was blaming everything on him. He could have even been blaming the weather on him a few times. So, Dr. Heiman left the room thinking: _Maybe you were not supposed to catch this Colonel Hogan._

Hochstetter watched his doctor leave, as frustration started to build up in him again. He wanted nothing more than to jump out of his bed right now and storm into Stalag 13 and get rid of Hogan once and for all. But he was being stopped by more than his legs. Burkhalter had already come by, fifteen days earlier when he had arrived at the hospital, telling him that he would have to leave Colonel Hogan and his men alone. They had given a satisfactory story, and there was no evidence to say otherwise.

There was a knock on the door, and Hochstetter looked up. This time, he really did smile, even if it was a rather sick and evil one.

"Ah, Corporal Lehmann, do come in," he said. A young, Luftwaffe Corporal stepped into the room. He could not have been more than twenty years old, perhaps younger. He had a timid look about him, but Hochstetter knew that was the act. He had already spoken with Cpl. Lehmann about ten days earlier, and knew that the boy was clever, resourceful, and able to be dirty at appropriate times.

"_Hallo, Herr Major,"_ said Lehmann. He saluted, and Hochstetter saluted back from his bed. "I am on leave right now, for the day. I thought I would make my report."

"Corporal," said Hochstetter. "Please make my day, and tell me that you some useful information."

The timid looking boy looked Hochstetter dead in the eyes, and gave a smug smirk. "You will not be disappointed _Herr Major._"


	29. Unpleasant Surprises

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: U****npleasant**** S****urprises**

"Newkirk…Newkirk, wake up."

Wilson was shaking Newkirk by the shoulder. It was the following night, or morning rather, around one o'clock. Wilson shook Newkirk a little harder, and the Englishman groaned.

"Wazgoinon?"

"Get up, Newkirk."

"Bugger off, Mum," muttered Newkirk, burying his face in his pillow.

"No, _Corporal_," growled Wilson. "You get up. Perkins is here. He says he's got to talk to you."

Newkirk rolled over, and looked up at Wilson. "Wot's wrong?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Don't ask me, ask him." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder to Private Perkins who was standing at the end of Newkirk's bed. Wilson helped Newkirk sit up, and laid a pillow behind him so that he could lean back against the headboard. Usually, Newkirk would have probably pushed him away, but he was looking at Perkins so intently, that he hardly seemed to notice.

"Wot's the barney, mate," asked Newkirk.

"The Billy Lehmann came back from a leave today," said Perkins, taking a step towards Newkirk. "'E come in about an 'our ago."

"This late," asked Wilson.

"Most guards who go out on leave come back durin' the night, cause they make some long trips," explained Newkirk.

"Anyway," continued Perkins. "Me an' Curtis got into the tunnel an' went up to the guards' barracks. We 'eard 'im on the dog. 'E sounded like 'e was talkin' to some china or someone. 'E said stuff like 'e collected 'is bees an' met up wif 'is skin. Said 'e'd been in some ruddy town called Wässerman. Then, 'e 'ung up, an' 'ad a bowler wif the other three tea leaves."

"Lemme guess," said Newkirk. "It was all a pack o' porkies."

"Spot on, mate," said Perkins. "'E told 'em that 'e spoke wif 'Ochstetter. Unfortunately, they didn't say much. Probably thought it was a bit risky 'round all the other guards. All 'e said was that 'e told 'Ochstetter everythin' an' that the next batch is comin' tomorrow at 2300."

Newkirk smiled. "That's it!" He looked at Wilson. "Mum, go get the Colonel!"

Wilson looked at Newkirk. He was completely baffled at the conversation he had just witnessed. He had gotten the bit at the end where Hochstetter was involved. But everything else had gone straight over his head. He was so baffled, he did not even get mad at Newkirk for calling him Mum. He jumped up and ran to the tunnel entrance which was underneath a 'cabinet' on the far side of the room. He ran through the tunnels until he got to the main tunnel room, where Kinch was sitting dutifully at the radio workbench. Kinch jumped up when he saw Wilson run in.

"Joe," he exclaimed. "What's wrong? Is Newkirk okay? Joe, speak to me!"

"I didn't even get time to answer the questions," said Wilson. "Never mind! Go get Colonel Hogan! Perkins came in. Said something about Hochstetter and Lehmann and such."

He had barely finished when Kinch disappeared upstairs. It was barely a minute later when Hogan and the others came down.

"Is Newkirk okay," blurted out Carter.

"He's fine," said Wilson. "They found out something else about Hochstetter. I would tell you more, but I have no idea what they were saying."

"C'mon," said Hogan.

They all ran back to the infirmary. But when Wilson climbed out of the tunnel, he stopped dead in his tracks. Hogan and the others climbed out after him, not noticing anything amiss until they also looked up. Everyone was frozen in place.

Perkins was standing over Newkirk, with a gun to his head. In the doorway of the infirmary was Corporal Lehmann. Newkirk was still, and scared stiff. This was exactly the kind of scenario he had feared. Here he was at gunpoint, and his mates in a sticky wicket themselves, and he could do nothing but lay there. Lay there and pray that the worst did not happen.

Lehmann smiled and walked from the doorway. He came to stand beside Perkins.

"Well, we did it," he said.

"You traitor," spat Newkirk. "Is this somethin' new, or 'ave you always been grass for Jerry?"

"Me conscience went wif the food," retorted Perkins.

"You ruddy bastard," exclaimed Newkirk. "We're all starved!"

"Be quiet _Engländer,_" said Lehmann. "If it were not for you, we would not be here. For that, I thank you."

"What are you talking about," asked Hogan.

"I am sure you realize that it was a set up from the beginning," he said. "At least in all of this business about four guards being bribed with food. In actuality, there was only one man being bribed with food, and it was this Private."

"What about the other guards," asked Wilson.

"I told them that I had found a food source, but said it was rather small, and that they could not tell anyone about it," explained Lehmann. "And as for that conversation you think Perkins and Curtis heard, it was all a lie that he told you so that you would go get Colonel Hogan."

"So wot about Curtis, Arcenau, an' Blackwell," asked Newkirk. "Are they grass too?"

"I am not sure what you exactly mean by grass, but they were not in on this," answered Lehmann. "They, in fact, had no clue, just like my fellow guards. Perkins told them a lie, just so that it would be more realistic for the rest of you. As for that, I had not really expected for Colonel Hogan and his entire staff to be here."

"Glad we could please you," said Hogan.

"Perkins, you're dead when I get me 'ands on ye," said Newkirk.

Perkins chuckled. "You can't get your 'ands on me, mate," he said. "In case ye 'aven't noticed, I'm the one wif the gun."

"Don't call me mate," said Newkirk. "Cause I ain't."

"Oh, why don't you two just be quiet," said Lehmann. "Corporal, just face it. This time, you and your pals lose." He looked at Hogan. "You were just outwitted, Colonel."

"By who," asked Hogan. "I can hardly see this coming from just you. Did you have help?"

"You are right there," admitted Lehmann. "This is not my scheme. It was Major Hochstetter's. You see, he and I met a while back. I originally tried for the SS, but was drafted into the Luftwaffe. However, Major Hochstetter noted my desire to be in his branch."

"I'm sure he was thrilled," said Hogan.

"Hardly," replied Lehmann. "At least not until he needed me. Once he realized that I would cooperate, he recruited me. I get a few extra things every now and then for keeping an eye on you and your men. However, I must admit, you are a clever crew. I have always noted a lot of suspicious things, and have reported them to Hochstetter, but you are careful, and I have yet to get some hard evidence on you. But this, well, this is perfect. I just watched you climb out of a tunnel. And Perkins here has told me how well your system runs."

"Why didn't you just go to Hochstetter straight away when Perkins told you everything," asked Carter.

"Because Major Hochstetter anticipated that you may know if he said something," answered Lehmann. "It would be hard for Perkins to dictate everything to Major Hochstetter or myself, or anyone for that matter, without someone getting suspicious. So, we created a scenario where I could witness something, both externally and internally." He smiled. "So, do you have anything else to say? I am about to sound the alarm, and uncover one of the greatest things ever discovered in Germany."

"How about how much you all failed," said Kinch. "That you couldn't catch us for a year-and-a-half?"

"Yes," said Lehmann. "It might be embarrassing some, but not for me. It will be embarrassing for the Luftwaffe. As for me, I will move right into the Gestapo, and probably become an officer."

"Is that another thing that Hochstetter promised you," asked Hogan.

"It is Major Hochstetter to you, Hogan," corrected Lehmann sharply. "And something you might want to look at, is that everything the Gestapo promised would happen, has happened."

"Ha," said Newkirk. "You mean all the bloodshed they've caused?"

"Be quiet," blurted out Perkins. "Say another word an' I'll end your miserable life right 'ere."

Newkirk must have believed him because he shut his mouth quickly.

"'Is miserable life," shouted LeBeau. "What about yours? 'E is the better man. You are selling out your own people."

"My own people," asked Perkins. "I never 'ad anyone back there in England. All those bloody toffs back there just looked down on me an' me mates. They wanted us gone, off the streets, in a prison somewhere, or playin' servant to them. They thought we were trash. So then they sent us to fight!" He looked at Newkirk. "Isn't that right? They didn't care about any blokes like us. If anyone's a traitor, it's you Newkirk! You're turnin' your back on the people back at 'ome that knew ye an' understood ye. Instead, ye've been foolin' around wif these toffs." He waved his and at Hogan and the others.

"They're good men," spat back Newkirk.

Perkins actually appeared that he was going to shoot, and everyone held their breath. But Lehmann held out his hand to Perkins. "Don't Private. We want them all alive. Major Hochstetter needs all of them to get the whole story."

"You got lucky," said Perkins to Newkirk.

"You didn't," said Newkirk. "Don't you see? They're goin' to get rid o' all o' us in the end. You may just want food, but don't you understand that we'll get shot? An' every other man in this camp as well. An' maybe even some o' the guards. Do you want to be personally responsible for the deaths o' over a thousand men?"

That seemed to confuse Perkins some. "That's a lie!"

"No it isn't," said Hogan, stepping forward. "You're the one who's been fed lies. Hochstetter probably made it sound all great, but it isn't. We're spies. You know that! You've known it from the beginning! And you know what'll happen if we get caught."

"Caught," said Perkins. "You're caught now! There's nothin' you can do anymore."

"No, I guess there isn't," said Newkirk, rather sadly. He looked directly at Perkins. "I thought you were good, but I guess I was wrong. You just pulled the wool over me eyes this time."

Perkins lowered his gun some, looking at Newkirk. He then looked backed to Hogan and the others. "Oh God," he whispered. "Wot 'ave I done?"

Then, it all happened so fast, it startled everyone. Perkins looked to Lehmann, who must have thought Perkins was messing things up, because he was raising his pistol to Perkins. Two shots were fired simultaneously, and both Perkins and Lehmann stumbled backwards. Lehmann hit the floor, clutching his chest. Perkins looked at him briefly, then at Newkirk, then at Hogan, then at the bullet wound in his side, and lastly at his own pistol. Then, he raised the pistol to his head.

"NO!" Newkirk tried to jump up, and Hogan took a quick step forward, but there was nothing they could do.

Perkins slumped over onto the ground, lying beside Lehmann. They were both dead.

Everyone was dead quiet, and then the alarm outside went off. The shots had obviously been heard, and now the guards were rushing to find out where they had come from.

"Colonel," cried Wilson. "You have to get back to the barracks!"

Hogan looked back at Wilson, and then at Newkirk, who looked very shocked.

But Newkirk looked at Hogan. "'E's right. You'd better go quick."

Hogan and the others just nodded and then ran climbed back into the tunnel. Right before Hogan went down, Wilson grabbed his shoulder.

"Take this with you," said Wilson. He handed Hogan a warm pistol. Hogan looked at Wilson, startled, but didn't ask any questions. There wasn't any time. He jumped down into the tunnel, and ran after the others to the barracks. Behind him, Wilson closed the trapdoor, and locked it securely.


	30. One Version

**Chapter Thirty: O****ne**** V****ersion**

Hogan, Kinch, Carter and LeBeau just barely made it back into the barracks before Schultz barged in. The Sergeant of the Guard was breathing heavily, and could barely get his words out.

"Colonel Hogan," he said. "What is going on? What have you done?"

"What have I done," asked Hogan. "I haven't done anything. We were just going out to ask you—"

He was cut off by Klink, who came in with guards on his heels. "Schultz," he said sternly. "Have these prisoners lined up for inspection."

The men reacted quickly by grumbling protests. Hogan stepped forward quickly. "Kommandant, I protest," he said. "We all heard those shots. Now what's going on?"

Before anyone could utter another word, a guard bolted in.

_"Herr Kommandant,_" he exclaimed. "The shots were fired in the infirmary! There is a prisoner and guard dead!"

Klink quickly turned to Schultz. "Post guards in every barrack, to ensure no prisoners leave their barracks."

"I'm coming," stated Hogan, moving towards the door.

"No you are not," stated Klink, with equal conviction. He stepped in front of Hogan. "You will remain in your barracks with the other prisoners."

"I have two men in that infirmary," cried Hogan.

"I am sorry, Colonel," said Klink. "But you _will_ stay here." He turned away. "Schultz, post the guards." Then, he left.

Schultz shot the men an apologetic look, and posted Langenscheidt with them. Hogan was grateful for that, because he knew what to expect from the younger guard. Their only problem was that they could not reach the infirmary through the tunnels or do anything they would normally try because Langenscheidt was posted inside the barracks. Even though the Corporal was a very decent man, and often turned a blind eye to the less suspicious things, he was not Schultz. So, now all they could do was wait, and pray that Wilson and Newkirk could cover up what was really going on.

Hogan was not very optimistic about the predicament.

()()()()()()

Wilson stood beside Newkirk's bed in a very authoritative and protective stance. His legs were a bit more than shoulder width apart and his arms crossed over his chest. His face was stern, and his eyes boring into the two guards in front of him. His angry expression was born from protectiveness and the adrenaline pumping through him. This adrenaline was also different from that which came when he was working to save someone's life. There was more of a fight to it; more of something that did not know mortality, but only knew immortality through action. So, Wilson stood that way between the two guards and Newkirk, daring them to come any closer. He had no authority in the room, and he knew it. However, he would not recognize it. As far as he was concerned, he was in charge in the infirmary as long it was standing and he was alive and there were patients.

"You will not touch him," repeated Wilson firmly.

"We must search him," said the other guard. "If you do no moof aside, ve vill force you."

Wilson did not bat an eye. Newkirk looked from Wilson, to the pair of guards, and back. Neither party was going to back down. Newkirk worried for Wilson's safety.

"Wilson, mate—"

But Newkirk was cut off by the medic. "Look, you can search me first. But you won't touch Corporal Newkirk until Colonel Hogan is here. He has to be here for all interrogations."

"To search someone iz no an interrogation," stated one the guards.

"It is in my book," retorted Wilson.

They glared at one another. The guards knew that they could indeed search Wilson first. However, they were so frustrated with the medic by now, that out of spite, they would argue his logic.

"_Nein_," said one of the guards, stepping forward and taking a stance. "Ve haf varned you once. If you do no moof aside now, you vill be forced. _Und _ze interrogation vill no be as pleasant for your patient."

Now, _that_ bothered Wilson more than he would let on. He looked at Newkirk. The Corporal's eyes told him that he wanted Wilson to move aside and let the guards search him. Wilson knew that Newkirk hardly cared about his own comfort, and that he was more concerned for Wilson's safety. However, Wilson new that the guards were on edge, after finding one of their own dead. Whether Wilson moved aside or not, he knew they would both get a rough search. Wilson decided he would stand his ground. Colonel Hogan would be back soon enough. Until then, he would not let them touch his patient.

Newkirk saw the determined look in Wilson's eyes come back, and he knew that the medic had made his decision. Newkirk groaned.

"Please, mate, don't get yourself in trouble," he said.

"Be quiet, Corporal," said Wilson, who went back to staring down the guards.

Newkirk sighed. That was Mum's no nonsense voice that could not be disputed. The Englishman prepared himself for the fireworks, and edged away to the other side of the bed.

"Go get Colonel Hogan," said Wilson. "And then I'll move aside."

The guards looked at one another, and then back at Wilson. They took a stance that would keep Wilson from going anywhere else. Newkirk knew what would come next.

Or, at least, he thought he did.

But instead of a pathetic fight from Wilson, and a pounding from the guards, Colonel Klink stormed into the infirmary. His eyes first rested on the sight of Wilson and the guards, and Newkirk's worried face, and he immediately assessed the situation…correctly?

"Guards," said Klink. "Back away from those men!"

The guards spun around. Newkirk sighed with relief and fell back against his pillow. Sometimes Klink would surprise him.

"_Herr Kommandant,_" said one of the guards. "Ve are trying to search zese men, but ze Sergeant vould no moof."

"Just back up and stay there," ordered Klink. "They will not be leaving this room anyway. But if you lay a finger on them, you will find yourself on report."

Wilson smiled triumphantly to the guards. They gave him some annoyed looks, but did as they were told. They moved to the edge of the bed.

Klink then turned his eyes to the main issue. About fifteen guards were crowded around Perkins and Lehmann's bodies. When Klink came up, they parted to let him see. He held back a grimace at the sight. Lehmann was lying on his back with two hands over his heart, where the blood had pooled from. It had soaked his shirt some, and his eyes were wide open, unseeing. Perkins was crumpled on the ground at the foot of Newkirk's bed. There was blood on his side, and then blood splattered around him, from shooting himself in the head. Part of his face was completely gone. There were two pistols lying on the floor between them.

"Take them outside," said Klink. "Cover them both up. Bring the prisoner to their graveyard. Put Corporal Lehmann on a truck, but remain in the compound."

The guards nodded and bustled to do as they were ordered. Schultz came back in, averting his eyes from the gruesome scene.

"_Herr Kommandant,_" he said. "The guards have been posted in the barracks, and more have been put out along the fences."

"Good, Schultz," replied Klink. "Now, stay here, and send all but four out. The guards left are to patrol inside the camp indefinitely and thoroughly."

"_Jawohl,_" said Schultz.

Klink waited until the room was cleared of everyone but Schultz and his four guards, including the two watching Wilson. Then, he turned to the two prisoners.

"What happened," he asked. "Why is there a guard and prisoner dead in here? And you had better tell the truth because there will be an inspection of this by the Luftwaffe and possibly the Gestapo."

Newkirk and Wilson looked at one another.

"Do you want to tell," asked Newkirk. "I don't mind, but that's up to you."

He was really asking Wilson if the medic had a story at all.

"Yeah, I'll tell," answered Wilson. "You just rest."

Newkirk took that to mean that Wilson thought he had a good cover-up story. Wilson looked back at Klink.

"Well, it's long," said Wilson.

"I want every detail," said Klink.

"Yes sir," said Wilson. He heaved a breath. "Well, Newkirk and I had been asleep. We went to bed at the lights out."

"And where were you sleeping," asked Klink.

"Back there," said Wilson. He turned and pointed to a bed in the far corner of the room, which was by the cabinets and table. There was more privacy back there. "That's where I sleep when I have a badly wounded patient. In case there are difficulties at night."

Klink looked to Newkirk, who just nodded innocently. "And how have you been, Corporal?"

"Oh," said Newkirk. "Gettin' better, Kommandant. Just not very mobile at the moment, doncha know?"

"Know I do not," said Klink. "Go on with the story, Sergeant."

"So, we were asleep," repeated Wilson. "And we woke up when we heard something. Actually, Newkirk woke up first. He saw Perkins looking around in the supplies. Newkirk asked him what he was doing and that's when I woke up. Perkins said he was looking for food. But he was worried now, since we had seen him. We told him we wouldn't tell, but said he should get back to the barracks before some guard caught him out after lights. I think he was about to go, but then Corporal Lehmann came in. I don't know why he was out, but when he saw all of us up, he asked what we were doing." Wilson paused.

"Then, Perkins was suddenly mad at Corporal Lehmann. He said he always saw Lehmann eating more food than everyone else. Lehmann was just ignoring him, and walked over to get him out of the infirmary and back to the barracks. He said he was going to put Perkins on report for this and he might even have to go to the cooler. Suddenly, Perkins pulled this pistol out of nowhere. He pointed it at Lehmann, and threatened him. He said that if he took another step, he would shoot him. Lehmann started to back away, and then drew his own pistol. He fired and hit Perkins in the side. Then, Perkins fired, and killed Lehmann."

Wilson looked at the ground then.

"Perkins knew he was going to get shot for killing a guard. He was real scared. We tried to stop him, but he just shot himself." Wilson looked at Newkirk and then back at Klink. "That's what happened Kommandant."

Klink nodded and looked at Newkirk. "Have you anything to add?"

"No, sir," answered Newkirk.

"Can either of you tell me where Perkins might have gotten a pistol," asked Klink.

Newkirk looked at Wilson and nodded. "Sir," said Newkirk. "I've known Perkins for awhile. 'E was a bit o' a crook before the war…an' still is you could say. Anyway, 'e might've stolen it out of the camp's stockade, or even from the guards' barracks if 'e 'ad a mind to."

Klink scrutinized Newkirk for a moment and then nodded. "Very well, then," he said. "You will both have to repeat what you've said tonight when we have other officials present. Your statements will be recorded as well. An investigation will occur, most likely with the Gestapo. So, prepare yourself. You know their reputations." The two prisoners nodded. "Schultz, you will remain here for tonight."

"_Jawohl_,_" _said Schultz.

Klink left the room and the four other guards followed him, shutting the door behind them. Schultz walked over to one of the beds and sat down. He took off his helmet and laid his gun down and sighed.

"What a night," he commented. "I cannot believe all of this happened. A prisoner and guard killed? All of these terrible things are happening lately."

"Yeah," said Wilson softly. He looked at Newkirk. The Englishman looked exhausted. Not physically, though. He sat down on Newkirk's bed, and lightly touched Newkirk on the shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," answered Newkirk, almost inaudible. He put his pillow down and lay down on his side, facing away from Wilson.

Wilson just nodded and squeezed Newkirk's shoulder. He stood up and walked back to his bed.

"Good night," he called back.

"_Guten nacht_," replied Schultz.

Wilson lay down on his back, with his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. He did not bother to change.

"G'night Mum."

Wilson smiled and closed his eyes. He still knew he would not be getting much sleep, though. None of them would


	31. The Violin on Everyone's Shoulder

**Chapter Thirty-One: T****he**** V****iolin ****on**** E****veryone's**** S****houlders**

The camp was still the following morning. Tensions were high, because everyone knew that a guard and prisoner were dead. However, only those who had heard it from the horse's mouth knew the truth about what really happened. So, everyone was suspicious. Klink had ordered his men who knew the truth not to speak of it until formal statements had been made. And Hogan ordered the men of Barracks 2 to keep their lips sealed as well. Klink had the men confined to barracks, and Hogan put out an order for everyone to submit to this regulation seriously. Also, no one was allowed in the tunnels unless given the order by Hogan himself. The guards were making random, albeit often, checks on the barracks. Hogan did not want anyone caught out. That would surely complicate the delicate situation at hand.

The lack of information was making both the guards and prisoners even more suspicious of the other. The guards thought that Lehmann had been killed by Perkins, and the prisoners believed the opposite. Also, both sides were becoming frustrated with their commanding officers for withholding the truth.

Finally, around ten o'clock, General Burkhalter arrived with several Luftwaffe inspection officers. Also with them was the Gestapo officer, Major Klöden, who had been the one to coordinate the search party for Hochstetter earlier. He had some of his own agents there as well.

The inspection began in the infirmary. Hogan tried to get Klink or Burkhalter to let him be there, but neither of them would budge. Hogan told himself that he should have known. This was too big of a thing for either man to let him have his way. Newkirk and Wilson were made to tell their story again. They were interrogated (just verbally, thank goodness) more harshly by Major Klöden. He questioned them on the finer details. However, earlier that morning they had prepared themselves by making sure they each had the same exact story, and agreed on certain scenarios the investigators might probe further into. As expected, the fact that Perkins had a gun on him was the most scrutinized fact. Newkirk and Wilson had to proclaim their innocence several times over, and even Klink had to point out that there was no way that Newkirk could have gotten out of bed. As for Wilson, he was questioned over and over again about his whereabouts throughout the day before. Guards and prisoners alike were brought in to vouch for him.

When finally there seemed to be no flaw in the story, and everyone was accounted for, and their innocence proven, the Gestapo and Luftwaffe investigators agreed that the incident was exactly as the story said: Two hungry men had gotten into an argument, which led to both of their deaths. The case was shut. It was also said that because of everyone's tempers, that the effort to replenish Stalag 13's supplies would be pushed through Berlin and food would be arriving more quickly than originally planned. Klink decided after that announcement, that the story of what happened could be told to the rest of the camp. There was less tension, but he knew it would resolve over time.

As for Hogan, he made the difficult decision to tell none of the prisoners what had really happened. The only ones that knew the truth were those in Barracks 2. He trusted his men that it remain that way. The fact that one of the men had been turned so easily was a shock to Hogan, and he knew it would just hurt the morale of the other prisoners; especially those who had fewer roles in the operation. For most of the camp, their jobs were to go along, lend a hand where they could, but overall, keep the secret. It was all on a need-to-know basis. Hogan decided that there was no need for them to know what really happened. Maybe sometime after the war, when they were at home, and could deal with the fact. But here, where trusting your bunk mate often kept you sane, was not the time or place. However, something had to be done. If Perkins was turned, that meant anyone could be. That meant that they had messed up somewhere. Right?

Hogan hated to think that they had missed people in the camp. That maybe there were prisoners here that were not for the operation. Or worse: they were Nazi spies. The thought was sickening, more now than ever because of everything they had just gone through. Most of the men had been there since the beginning of Stalag 13. Those who had not been were far outnumbered by those who were. Even worse to point out, Perkins had been one of the European prisoners captured two years earlier. Any acts of sabotage had always been backed up by those men, because of the two years previous that had been a living hell for them. It had been very clear to Hogan before this. Now, it wasn't anymore. He would have to do something.

First, he took the necessary steps of protocol with London. He got Kinch to get them up on the radio, and then had a long talk with them. He told them much of what happened the weeks before, and then what had taken place the previous night. They were just as alarmed as Hogan had been about all the breaches of security. However, they believed as well as Hogan that both cases were not related, except in the matter of Major Hochstetter. Then, they gave the order that all names of men in the camp were to be sent to them. They would conduct a thorough investigation of everyone, regardless of who they were and how long they had been there, or anything else about the. Hogan felt uncomfortable about it. He told London that he didn't think that would be necessary, that they could perform their own investigations and narrow it down more quickly. But London was adamant. They would perform _their_ investigations whether Hogan liked it or not.

Hogan knew there was nothing he could say that would change their mind on such an important matter. Still, London and he broke off with some heated tension. It was only more tension that Hogan would have to deal with.

()()()()()()

Newkirk was lying flat on his back, his hands behind his head, looking straight up at the infirmary ceiling. He was counting the boards that made up said ceiling, something that in that past had made him fall asleep, or get his mind off things. He'd rather go to sleep. That way, he wouldn't have to talk to anyone. He'd been quiet since the night before; meaning he never spoke unless he was asked to. Wilson had done most of the explaining during the investigations. Speaking of the medic, Wilson had been giving Newkirk concerned looks all day. Newkirk knew that Wilson was worried about him. And not of physical ailments.

Newkirk admitted to himself that he was shaken up a bit from the night before. They had been betrayed by Underground members before, but that had never mattered much emotionally to him, because he was not friends with them. He worked with them, but never called them friend or anything. But it was different, when someone you not only worked with, but had lived with for so long, turned on you. Perkins had been in the same camp with Newkirk since the beginning of their captivity. Not to mention, they had gotten along pretty well because of their similar background of both being East End boys. In the previous camp, they had worked together, but not in any operation. No, it had been the work where the POWs were sent out everyday almost like slaves. They were _hired _out to people to work every day. And no one cared how they were treated. That kind of work was the kind where people grew close, in order to survive. And then came the unusual transfer to Stalag 13. Perkins and Newkirk had been a part of a group of Europeans who had regarded all of the Yanks just as warily they did the Nazis. They had stuck together; looked out for one another.

And Perkins had turned his back on all of that, because of some food?

Wilson started walking over, and Newkirk felt like rolling over to his side, to face away from the medic. But Wilson got there before he could manage it. The medic stopped at the foot of his bed, and looked down at Newkirk.

"Yes," asked Newkirk, sounding irritable, even though he wasn't.

"I was just seeing if you're okay," said Wilson. "And not with your back or anything like that."

Newkirk continued to look up at the ceiling.

Wilson sighed. "I know you and Perkins were friends. I know—"

"I wouldn't exactly say we were friends," said Newkirk. "Friends don't sell out friends. Good people don't do somethin' so stupid for a bit more grub."

Wilson nodded. "Okay. But Newkirk, I know it's bothering you. And I just wanted to let you know…that if you wanna talk, I'm here."

Newkirk gave him a pointed look. "Righto, Mum."

Wilson smirked. If Newkirk was calling him Mum, then things were not that bad. He started to turn away, but Newkirk stopped him.

"Wait a minute," said Newkirk. Wilson turned back, his eyebrows raised in question. "Last night…you killed 'im didn't you? You killed Lehmann?"

Wilson's expression hardened some. He looked more serious than Newkirk could ever remember seeing him. He stared down at Newkirk for a long moment, and then nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I did."

"I thought so," said Newkirk. "I didn't see it, but I couldn't figure out who else could've done it."

"Yeah." Wilson was just staring into space now.

Newkirk narrowed his eyes at Wilson. "You alright, Mum?"

Wilson looked at him, his face hard again. Then, he let the mask slip away and he sighed. He looked tired and worn and even a little scared. "It's just…that was the first man I ever killed."

Newkirk nodded. He wasn't too sure how to go about it all, but he intended to help Wilson cope with this new reality in any way he could. "'Ow about you sit down." He gestured to the bed next to him.

Wilson complied dejectedly. "I mean, you and the others, well, you don't like to kill people, and I know you avoid it as much as possible, but you've done it before when it needs to be done," said Wilson. "But me, I never did it. Not even while I was out in the field."

"Well, you're a medic," said Newkirk. "It's not your first priority. Blimey, the Geneva Convention says you lot aren't even allowed to be shot. Not that everyone goes by the book…but my point is that you try and save lives, not take them."

"Unless I have to," finished Wilson.

"Right," said Newkirk.

"So why do I feel so terrible," asked Wilson. "I mean, Lehmann might've gotten this entire camp wiped out, but I still feel bad about killing him."

"Well, that's good innit," said Newkirk. "If you feel bad about killin' a man, no matter 'ow evil 'e is, then that's good for you. That means that you're not some ruddy monster. That means you're a good fellow."

Wilson looked up at Newkirk with confusion.

"I mean," said Newkirk. "Look: before this war, I dealt in some gruesome things. You Yanks 'ave your gangs, well so does England. An' when I was younger, I got into some things that I ain't proud of. I never killed a man as a civilian, but this one guy I worked for, this "guv'nor" who wasn't the real deal, 'e'd killed people before. An' 'e would joke an' laugh about it as if 'e'd killed a fly. I never understood it. The first time I saw them beat up a guy, I nearly threw up. Wot's even worse, it wasn't too much longer that I was dealin' in things that either got me beat up, or someone else beat up. An' when I got into this war, I was 'ard. I killed men from the turret, an' never thought twice. I didn't want to. I didn't see a reason to. But the first time I killed someone on the ground; it was a bit of a shock. I watched them die. But I never really thought about it again. I'd always seen it as kill or be killed. I s'pose that's 'ow I've always seen it since. O'course, I think I changed a few o' me ways since I got 'ere."

"So you felt remorse too," asked Wilson. "When you first killed a man?"

"Yea," said Newkirk. "But not strongly. Life then was just too 'arsh. It was livin' 'ell."

"Yeah," said Wilson, reminiscing. "It was definitely a shock to get captured. The world got flipped over again." Then he smiled, trying to lighten the mood some. "So, you're tellin' me, that you always act tough, but it ain't always so?"

Newkirk smiled. "Well, I do 'ave a reputation to keep up. I can't 'ave people thinkin' they can get away with anythin'." He shook his head. "But, no, really, I do feel remorse, but I push it aside. Maybe I'll come to terms with it some other time, maybe when we're outta 'ere, if I live that long. But I'm supposed to push it aside, aren't I? It's a part of my job 'ere to get rid o' threats. I didn't do that last night. You did, and for that I thank you. But you, Mum, you're a doctor. Killin' a man isn't in your job description."

"Wrong," said Wilson. "You said it yourself; I'm a soldier. I'm a soldier first."

"No, you're not," said Newkirk. "You're not a soldier 'ere." He pointed to his heart. "You're a doctor. You want to 'elp people. You want to do good through 'elpin' others. An' you do a right fine job of it, mate."

"Well, thanks," said Wilson with a smile, truly touched. Newkirk didn't hand out praise very often. But then he frowned. "And you, Newkirk? You're no murderer. What are you?"

Newkirk smiled. "I'm not really sure. Maybe you could say I'm a crook in transition. I've 'ad a change o' 'eart, an' we'll see which way it really goes after the war. Or you could just say that I'm a chap who's just tryin' to survive an' see wot's over the next 'ill."

Wilson smiled. "You're a good man. That fact I won't ever doubt."

Newkirk chuckled. "But I've still done things. An' if it weren't for bein' at the right place at the right time, it could've been me in 'ere last night threatenin' the entire camp."

"But it wasn't," said Wilson.

"But it could've been," said Newkirk. "Don't you get it? The Guv'nor could've picked someone else for me job, an' I would've been the man who never changed an' was fightin' for some grub."

"Newkirk," said Wilson. "You can't think like that. I saw you when you first came 'ere. I remember you. It was because of what you did in those first few days that made Colonel Hogan choose you. Don't you get it? You were always a good man."

Newkirk shook his head, smiling hopelessly at Wilson. "I'll 'ear it but I won't believe it. Thanks, Mum, for the talk. But I just wanted to make sure _you_ were okay."

"You're hopeless, Newkirk," said Wilson, standing up. "Don't you get that everyone else cares about _you_ and wants to make sure _you're _okay?"

"Well, I am," said Newkirk. "I just wanna get better. I wanna get out of this bed more than to just take a piss."

Wilson chuckled. "Yeah, well I want you outta here too."

"Gee, Mum, don't break me 'eart," said Newkirk with mock hurt in his eyes.

Wilson smirked and started to walk back to the medicine cabinets. "Well, I need to look at your back, now, so roll over."

Newkirk groaned. "I thought you said the swellin' was gone."

"It is," said Wilson. He rummaged through the cabinet some and pulled out a bottle. Newkirk eyed it distrustfully. It was a bottle of whiskey; homemade of course. Now, Newkirk could drink, and certainly didn't mind having a drink every now and then. But one thing he had learned from an early age was that when you were hurt and someone brought you whiskey, it meant that it was going to hurt more in a few moments.

"Why the whiskey," asked Newkirk.

"I thought you'd like a drink," said Wilson simply, grabbing a glass.

"Wot you goin' to do to me," asked Newkirk.

Wilson laughed. "So distrustful." He took out another glass. "I thought we could drink to the fact that there's no more swelling on your back, and that you're pretty much on the mend everywhere else too. I would've done this earlier, but obviously that wouldn't have worked out."

Newkirk smiled. "Yea, I know wot you mean. Them Gestapo goons aren't too fancy to drinkin'."

Wilson walked over and set the glasses down on a bedside table. He poured the whiskey and handed Newkirk a glass. He picked up his own and they tapped the glasses together.

"Cheers, mate," said Newkirk.

They both downed their glass in one quick swig. They both followed up with a shocked and sourly look on their face. Newkirk shook his head and Wilson coughed some.

"Cor blimey, mate," Newkirk managed hoarsely. "That's bloody strong. You damn Yanks."

Wilson coughed again, as if trying to clear his throat. "Yeah. Wow."

"You guys having a drinking part without me?"

Newkirk and Wilson looked up towards the door. Colonel Hogan was standing there with his hands on his hips in a very business-like manner. Wilson stood up quickly, placing his glass on the table.

"Hey, sir," he said.

Newkirk started laughing, but tried to make it inconspicuous. Wilson's voice was barely audible with its hoarseness. Wilson glared at him, and then gave an innocent smile to Hogan. Hogan walked on over, smiling.

"I didn't think doctors would usually recommend straight whiskey to their patients," said Hogan.

"It's something for trauma," said Wilson. He turned his head away and coughed again.

Newkirk bust out laughing again, this time unable to cover it up at all. "Are you kiddin'? Me ears are goin' through more trauma now than ever before."

Wilson took a pillow off the next bed, and smacked Newkirk in the face with it. Newkirk just kept laughing as if nothing had happened. Hogan rolled his eyes.

"Well," he said. "We just all got 'un-confined' from the barracks. Everyone thinks Perkins killed Lehmann for some food cause Lehmann was getting more than everyone else. No one else is tied to it."

The statements about the day's previous events sobered up Newkirk and Wilson quickly.

"Well, that's good," said Newkirk. "Everyone shocked?"

"No one knows what to say," said Hogan. "We're all mute. At least you two are doing better."

Wilson coughed again, this time getting his voice back some. "It's isolation with one another. It's driving us crazy."

"Look here, doc," said Hogan. "Newkirk was already crazy. I think he's given you a bad influence."

"Hey," pouted Newkirk. "If you're goin' to state the truth, do it more nicely 'ow about?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Hogan casually. "I just had a few questions for you two, about last night." They both looked at him keenly. "Which one of you shot Lehmann?"

"I did, sir," said Wilson, with a mixed expression of pride and shamefulness. But he looked Hogan dead in the eyes.

"Well, good job," said Hogan. "And good shot. I don't know if you're aim is really that good or you just got lucky but either way I'm not complaining. But we were all wondering exactly who got him."

"I had a gun in one of the cabinets," explained Wilson. "It was put there for emergencies. I stow it in the tunnel when the Krauts search the barracks, but they hardly ever really search the infirmary, especially if no one's in it."

"Well," said Hogan. "I guess it should stay in here. I'll return it later. It's done its job once; we'd best keep it in here if we need it again." Wilson nodded and Hogan looked at Newkirk. "Now, for you."

"Wot did I do," asked Newkirk.

"I didn't say you did anything," said Hogan, crossing his arms. "But why are you so suspicious?"

"No reason," said Newkirk quickly. "It's just you had this look like you were about to accuse me of somethin'."

"Everyone gives you that look," said Wilson. "It's impossible not to."

Newkirk threw the pillow back at the medic.

"Anyway," said Hogan loudly, stopping the bickering before it began. "I was just going to ask you if you were okay. LeBeau said that you and Perkins had been pretty close before."

Newkirk sighed. "I'm fine. Nothin' I 'aven't seen before. Besides, Mum already 'ad this talk with me."

"Okay, then," said Hogan. "I just wanted to check in. As long as _Mum_ is around, I guess we're good."

"That's what you think," said Wilson. "But lemme tell you this, we mums aren't superhuman. We can't do everything. So if I don't start getting some appreciation, you're gonna regret it."

"Ever thought about bein' a female impersonator," asked Newkirk.

"Yeah," said Hogan. "You could join Newkirk. You two could do a sister act."

Both non-coms gave their commanding officer a 'that was too far' look. He threw up his hands.

"Sorry," he said. "It won't happen again."

Newkirk smiled. "Where are the others, Guv?"

"Working," answered Hogan with a sigh. "I could only drop by for a moment. Klink has got people working on the new mess hall and kitchens, the motor pool, and storing the little food supplies we're getting from town in the rec hall and some old shed. The few free hands I've got are getting the name of every man in this camp."

"Why," asked Wilson.

"London," stated Hogan, as if it were the answer to everything. "They're a bit disturbed about the security breaches of late. So, every prisoner, Kraut, and dog is getting a background check. No exceptions. They said they were going to dig deep and make sure nothing fishy gets by them."

Wilson gave a low whistle. "Not taking any chance are they?"

"Nope," said Hogan. "But I guess it's all for the best. And it's all classified anyway. They'll probably find nothing, and no one'll know the difference. And if they do find something, well…we'll jump that river when we get to it."

They suddenly heard Klink's voice from outside.

"Schultz! Where is Colonel Hogan? I need to see him in my office immediately!"

"_Jawohl, Herr Kommandant_! I will go find him immediately!"

Hogan rolled his eyes. "Well, there's _my_ mother hen. You two boys be good. I'll see you later. The others will drop by too."

"Okay," said Wilson.

"Enjoy yourself, Guv," said Newkirk tauntingly as Hogan left the room.

Hogan shot him a glare, and walked out.

"Wonder what Klink wants," said Wilson.

"Probably nothin'," said Newkirk. "'Alf the time 'e just calls in the Guv'nor to babble on about 'ow bad things are goin' for 'im an' then play a ruddy awful tune on 'is violin about it."

"Yeah," said Wilson. He picked up the whiskey bottle and poured Newkirk and himself another glass each. "Maybe if he drank some of this, it would shut him up."

Newkirk smiled and took his glass. Wilson sat back down.

"To Klink's violin," said Newkirk. "May it one day cease to cry its awful melody."

They tapped their glasses together and threw the shots back.


	32. The Things That Make Us Think

**Chapter Thirty-Two: T****he**** T****hings**** T****hat**** M****ake U****s**** T****hink**

"Well, _Herr Major_," said Doctor Heiman. "You will be leaving tomorrow morning." He set down his chart and looked at his very ungrateful patient.

"_Sehr gut,_" said Hochstetter, crossing his arms. "I was sick of this place the moment I stepped in."

"You were not even conscious then, _Herr Major_," commented Doctor Heiman softly. It was the most he could manage to say. He wanted to say a lot more, but figured he could hold out one more day. Hochstetter still gave him a quick glare.

"Just let me know if there are any visitors, _Herr Artz,_" he growled back. It was obvious to Heiman that the Major was tenser these past few days. He wondered about the visitor he had gotten about two days earlier. The young Corporal had never returned and no word had come from him, albeit that Hochstetter had told Heiman that the Luftwaffe Corporal would probably be making another return.

But he had never returned, and now Hochstetter looked like he was ready to snap someone's neck off. Fortunately, he was being returned to the world still unable to get around much. He would be confined to some crutches to help himself walk. For some time, as well. Heiman secretly wished it was for the rest of the war, so that perhaps whoever his unlucky adversary was would have a winning chance on survival at least.

"_Jawohl, Herr Major_," replied Heiman dutifully. He gave a curt nod and left the room. Upon returning to his office quickly to gather up some files, he found an envelope on his desk. A note lay on it, written in his secretary's hand, saying that it had been dropped off for Major Hochstetter by another Gestapo soldier.

"Ah," said Heiman to himself. "Perhaps this will make our Major's last day here a bit more capable for him." He gathered his files, and then took up the note as well. He came back to Hochstetter's room, and handed the envelope to the Major. "Here you are, _Herr Major_. This was left for you by one of your colleagues. He must have been in a rush to not have been able to give it to you personally."

Immediately, there was suspicion in Hochstetter's eyes. Heiman felt like rolling his own eyes. Why could this man not accept things as they were: plain and simple?

"Do you not want it, _Herr Major_," asked Heiman.

Hochstetter glared and snatched it away. "_Danke, Herr Artz._"

"_Bitte_," said Heiman. "Now, if you will excuse me, I must tend to other patients. I hope you enjoy your letter."

He quickly left the room. Hochstetter watched him go, and then looked down at the envelope in his hands. There was no marking on it, which made him wary of it from the start. Normally any document from the Gestapo, even if it was only a note to another agent, would have been marked in some way, so that receiver could assume it was credible. Still, Hochstetter wondered if this was the only way Corporal Lehmann could have contacted him. So, he proceeded to open the envelope. He unfolded the paper inside, which read:

_Dear Major Hochstetter, _

_ You have attempted to disband an Underground unit in this Hammelburg area. You have attempted to do this for some time now. I dare say: you have failed. You attempt this again and again, and I suspect that you will not give up. However, in light of recent events that you will soon come to know, you will realize that you are dealing with a well-prepared and well-protected set of Underground agents. These men are not fooled easily. And they will not stand to be messed around with any longer. At least, I will not stand for this much longer. If you continue to challenge them, I will challenge you. And just in case you were not realizing this: I have an advantage, because I can see you and you cannot see me._

_ I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay at the hospital, Major._

_Sincerely,_

_Your Shadow_

Hochstetter placed the letter down slowly, deep in thought. The letter said much more than intended, or perhaps intended. By telling Hochstetter that he had been attempting to disband an Underground unit, the shadow was telling him that Colonel Hogan was the man. That was the only one he had investigated so much. Also, "well-protected" meant to Hochstetter that there were people inside the Nazi military that were in league with them. Also, they probably had a lot of help from other spies planted throughout the country. Hochstetter had always suspected that, but now that he was sure there were Nazi militants on the same side as Hogan, it was a boost of reassurance. The only thing not reassuring was that someone was watching him. Someone obviously knew what he was on to. And someone knew what he had done recently. This "someone" was also correct in the fact that Hochstetter was at a disadvantage. He apparently knew very much about Hochstetter, and most likely had been watching him for a time. Since Hochstetter had not even suspected him or sensed that _anyone_ was watching him, he could only assume that said someone was very good at his job. That was definitely someone Hochstetter did not want to deal with more than he had to.

However, to give up was not Hochstetter's style. He knew that Hogan was the culprit and perhaps it was even Hogan who had somehow sent him this letter as a warning. But whoever it was, he was not intimidated enough by them to completely give up his search. Now he knew the game. He would wait, and watch, send out his own probes in different directions, hopefully showing his shadow that he was being submissive. And when they had their guard down, after Hochstetter's display of submission, was when he would attack once again. After all, he was getting closer each time. But for now, he would wait.

()()()()()()

Hogan sat down beside the radio, drumming his fingers on the workbench, deep in thought, and oblivious to much around him. He was so oblivious, he did not even notice Carter come down the stairs behind him, dropping to the floor with a solid _thud _and then amiably walking on over without minding noise.

"Hey Colonel," said Carter.

Hogan flinched and turned around quickly. "Carter! You startled me there, boy."

"Oh, sorry, Colonel," said Carter. "I was just coming down to tell you that dinner is ready. Or, at least what dinner is around here now. I mean, if you're done talking to London and all."

"Yeah, I am," said Hogan grudgingly. He stood up. "Thanks."

"London pushing you around, sir," asked Carter.

"No, not really," said Hogan. "I just don't like what they're doing. Still, I know why they have to do it."

"You mean about giving everyone's name to them," asked Carter. Without waiting for a reply, he went on. "Yeah, I know whatcha mean. We give everyone's name and rank and all of that when they first get here. You'd think that would be enough."

"Well," said Hogan. "Every now and then we find someone who does pass the tests, but isn't right. We just manage to catch them before they catch us. But lately...well apparently, not everything was as it seems, and London just wants to make sure we aren't going to really get it the next time."

"Sir," said Carter. "I know you've been taking it hard on yourself lately, mostly about the security of our operation, but even more so with what happened with Perkins. But you can't. Because Perkins was a good guy. He was one of us; he just…just went the wrong way I guess. He didn't know what he was doing."

"I know Carter," said Hogan. It had been five days since the incident, and it hardly left his mind. "But the fact that it happened, and that maybe it'll happen again, is what makes me troubled. There are other things, too, but I don't want to talk about it right now. Let's just go eat. Maybe it'll be something better than tomorrow."

"It's potatoes, sir," said Carter. "I don't think it gets any better. We've hit the peak."

Hogan chuckled. "You're probably right. C'mon."

Outside, they joined everyone as they got into a line that wove in a semi-circle around the compound. There were three steaming pots, with the same soup they had been receiving each day: potato soup with a new vegetable mixed in. The vegetables varied between carrots, cabbage, mushroom, or broccoli, and they were a treat in the watery soup. They received three bowls a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Water was served out in mugs from the well. It was enough to keep them going, and each day more supplies came in. Construction on the new mess hall continued at a steady rate. It was decided that a separate building for the food supplies would be built, in case the hall went up in flames again. There was hope again in the camp. Hope that everything was going to finish all right.

From the infirmary, Wilson walked on over to Carter and Hogan.

"Hey," he said. "Coming out for the last delicacy of the day?"

Hogan smiled. "Yep, my mouth is just watering for it."

"You don't have to tell me," said Wilson. "Newkirk would refuse it completely if LeBeau didn't threaten to tie him down and force feed him."

Carter laughed. "Yeah, Colonel, you should've seen them yesterday when LeBeau brought him lunch. I thought they were gonna have a fist fight! Even if Newkirk was still injured."

Hogan shook his head with a smile. "Those two are too stubborn for their own good."

"And you, Colonel," asked Wilson.

"Oh, be quiet, Sergeant," said Hogan. He took his bowl from the prisoner serving it. "Thanks."

"You don't have to act grateful, sir," replied the private good naturedly. "No one else is."

"At least we have food," noted Carter.

"How is Newkirk, Wilson," asked Hogan. "When do you think he'll be able to get out of there?"

"I'd say next week at the latest," said Wilson, taking his own bowl. They stepped out of the line and went over to the well to fill their mugs with some water. "He's been getting better faster than I expected. His wrist and ribs are fully healed, and his back is probably okay. He can get up when he wants, more mobile. But I don't want him to rush into anything, which I know he'll do if I release him now. So, we'll wait a few more days."

"You sure are devious," said Hogan.

"Why thanks," said Wilson.

"I'm gonna go eat with Newkirk and LeBeau," said Carter. He filled up his mug. "Wanna come with me?"

"I will," said Wilson. "Colonel?"

Hogan shook his head. "Nah, I'm just going to walk around a bit."

"All right," said Wilson. He and Carter took their drinks and headed back to the infirmary. Hogan watched them go, and then started strolling around the camp as he sipped his soup.

Wilson looked at Carter. "The Colonel is thinking hard lately, isn't he?"

"Yeah," answered Carter. "He's just stressed I think. I think London is treating him more badly than he admits. They took everyone's name, you know, but he doesn't like it. He says he knows why, cause it makes sense, but it still bothers him. And it bothers him that all of this happened."

Wilson opened the door and they walked in. "He would. Don't worry, he'll come around. London won't find anything and then it'll smooth over. And maybe when we get better food, he'll be in a better mood too."

"I think everyone will," said Carter. He stopped and watched the scene before him.

Kinch was sitting on the bed next to Newkirk, his feet propped up on the bedside table. LeBeau was standing over Newkirk with a bowl and a spoon, and Newkirk sitting up in the bed, his eyes lit up with stubborn anger at LeBeau.

"No," he was plainly stating. "I'm not takin' another bite o' that. It's ruddy cabbage, mate. I've 'ad enough o' cabbage."

"But you 'ave to eat _mon ami_," argued LeBeau. "You need to regain strength."

"I'm fine," Newkirk nearly yelled. "I ate me breakfast_ and_ lunch. I think that's good enough."

"LeBeau," said Wilson. The others looked at him. "I think it'll be fine for Newkirk to not eat anymore. He doesn't do as much as you do during the day anyway. And if he's fighting you off, he's got enough strength."

"Thank you kindly, Mum," said Newkirk.

LeBeau scowled, but set the bowl aside and sat down. "Well, as long as you eat most of your meals each day."

"Trust me, Louie," said Newkirk. "With Mum around, I get it all in."

Wilson smiled. "I'm honored to be recognized for my acts of bravery."

The others laughed. Kinch finished his bowl first and stood up. "Where's Colonel Hogan?"

"Walking around the camp," answered Carter. "Thinking."

"'E does that too much," said Newkirk.

"You do it too little," remarked LeBeau.

"Kinch," asked Wilson. He noticed the somber look on the radioman's face.

"I'm going to go talk to him," said Kinch. "Ya know, just to make sure he's okay. It's been stressful around here lately."

"Gee, 'as it really," asked Newkirk sarcastically.

Kinch scowled at him. "Ya know, buddy, I think I liked you better when you weren't responding."

"Hey," shouted Carter. "That's not very nice."

But Newkirk and LeBeau were laughing anyway.

"S'alright, Carter," said Newkirk. "Get on out o' 'ere Kinch. Go 'elp the Guv'nor."

Kinch just smiled and left. Outside, he just asked a few people if they had seen Colonel Hogan, and soon enough, he spotted him walking the perimeter. A lot of prisoners did that when they had to think. Kinch had done it himself at times. He had seen others walk around the camp nearly ten times before they were satisfied. At first, he wondered if he should interrupt at all. But thinking back, they Colonel hadn't been himself for the past few days. The troubles of the camp, both internal and external, were wearing down on him. Kinch thought it would do him some good to have someone to talk to. He walked on over, and met the Colonel's stride, continuing to walk with him.

"Hey, Colonel, you okay?"

"Yeah."

"That's what I thought. You wanna talk about anything?"

"Not really."

"Well, is it all right if I walk with you?"

"Sure."

So Kinch walked on with him, patiently waiting because he knew that if he stayed long enough, Hogan would say something eventually. And he was right; only one time and a half around, and Hogan finally spoke.

"There is something, Kinch," he said softly. He looked around some. Kinch noted that they were on a more empty section of the camp. "But I can't…I don't want it to sound the wrong way."

"So it's a touchy subject," said Kinch.

"Yeah," said Hogan. "Something I'd never thought about before. But it's London…them and their stupid investigations."

"You think there may actually be more people here that are traitors," asked Kinch.

"No," said Hogan. "I don't think that. And I don't think London will find that. But these investigations just made me think. Probably think too much. When I was giving everyone's names, I was thinking about them; who they were. I don't talk to a lot of the men her all the time, but I can remember when each man came, or when I first met them. I can remember what people told me about them and such. But if there was never a problem, I didn't worry. But…well, Wilson told me that Newkirk was sort of upset because Perkins was like him in some ways. Ya know: where they came from, their skills, how they acquired them, and even their attitudes and personality were sort of the same. And Newkirk thought that if Perkins could be turned like that, why couldn't he?"

"That's ridiculous, sir," said Kinch. "I trust Newkirk with my life, and I would bet my life ten times over that he would never turn because he was hungry."

"I know that," said Hogan. "And I say the same thing. But that's not my point. You see, I trust Newkirk, but all these other…conmen—for lack of a better word—well, I don't know…or I wonder…how much can I trust them?"

Kinch frowned. "You're thinking that if something like this ever happened again, where a bribe was held over our heads, who would turn and who wouldn't?"

"Right," said Hogan. "If this bribe was something that put one above others, whether it be money or freedom, would someone actually go for it?"

"And you're thinking more about people who've…got a cloudy past," asked Kinch. "In other words…criminals."

"Not criminals Kinch," said Hogan quickly. "They're here, fighting aren't they? They had to have had some love for their country, their family, their people's freedom. They've got to be good men. Perkins was; that's what made him kill himself. He knew what he was doing was wrong; or rather he came to realize what he had done. He wasn't completely a bad man. His judgment though, was blurred by hunger, and his own greediness." Hogan stopped walking. "What if that greediness was something coming back from the days when he was stealing money and robbing people blind?"

"Everyone had greediness in them, sir," said Kinch.

"Yes, they do," said Hogan. "And what makes someone 'good'—so society says—is whether or not they refuse to feed their greediness or not."

"It says they're a better person," said Kinch. "It says that they're stronger. That even though they can't have what they want, they won't do something illegal for it, or something that will hurt anyone to get it."

"Right," said Hogan. "Which is why I'm wondering. I used to think it was a good thing having these people around. They're useful. They can get into anything they want, and don't feel bad about it. They don't have second thoughts. At least, they don't act like it. But now, if they were tested again, so to speak, would they pass or fail? If something big came around, a matter of life or death, would they save their own skins, or would they stick with their comrades?"

"Sir," said Kinch. "I think you're over thinking all of this. One man screwed up, but you can't believe that everyone else like him is going to screw up too. Maybe Perkins didn't change as much as we thought. But a lot of the people here have changed, and for the better. They do have second thoughts. Some show it, and others don't. We don't. We push our feelings aside, because we have to work."

"Are we good men, Kinch," asked Hogan.

"I believe we are," replied Kinch without hesitation. "I think about it, when we have to take a life, or even some lives. But if I feel remorse about it, or I think about it that much, God knows I really am sorry about it. He knows we don't want to be here, doing what we do. And He knows we've chosen to stay because we're fighting for the greater good. We're fighting for this overall purpose that we can't let someone like Hitler run Europe over, stealing more than a few lives. Yes, sir, we are good men. Every man in this camp is a good man, despite their past or future."

Hogan smiled. "I'm glad I have you around Kinch. Now, if you could just convince London of that, I'd feel better."

"Why," asked Kinch. "Were they starting to categorize people?"

"No," said Hogan. "But I have a feeling they will. Once they realize who's done time, and who hasn't, and which category Perkins fell into, I think they'll start asking questions. All I worry about is: what if they're right?"

Kinch was silent, because he knew that the Colonel had a thought there. If someone was tested enough, would they give in? It was a question they all thought about. They said they would not, but temptation or pain could be terrible.

"Sir," he finally said. "We just have to make sure that in the future, there aren't any more chances for a man to be tempted too much. In the same way we protect each other from the Gestapo, we should try and protect one another from getting into testy situations. Then, we'll never have to answer this God-awful question."

"I guess that's all we can do, isn't it," said Hogan.

"Yes, sir, that's all," said Kinch.

They started walking around the compound again. Some of the other prisoners would wave at them, or greet the Colonel. He would amiably respond to them, easily smiling, as if there was not anything wrong. And Kinch knew Hogan had the hardest job in the camp. He knew so many terrible things, but he had to protect the innocence of his men, and subject as few as he could to the terrible realities they would face. His number one job in his own heart and mind was to get every man home safely, and even one life lost was hurtful. It was pressed against every man's mind, that it was unlikely that they could hold out the entire war. That they would most likely be found out, and very few would actually survive. And knowing all of this, and much more, Hogan would continue to make his rounds around the camp, instilling a sense of security in every man, that it was okay for now. So they lived on every minute of the day, enjoying the normality while they could. Because normal meant that they were not being discovered, which meant a few more days of life at least, until the next mission, and then it would start all over again.

**T****HE**** E****ND**


End file.
